A Day in the Life of WordPress Darling Trent Fucking Lewin

TFL is a fucking genius, darlings. Realize it now and thank me later.

Trent Lewin

Fall or jump.  Doesn't fucking matter. Fall or jump. Doesn’t fucking matter.

            Wake up.  What country is this?

            Downstairs, the doorman greets me.  “Hello Mr. Lewin, how are you?”

            “Fucking.  Address me as Trent Fucking Lewin please.”

            “Oh, I see.  How quaintly Canadian.”

            “Do you know Hook?  Do you know Hookie?  Tell me right now you fucker!”

            Doorman looks confused.  Tries to let me out of the hotel, but I’ll not have it.  “I’m not going out there.  It’s fucking Florida.  There’s no way I’m going out there.”

            “You could perhaps rest in the hotel bar?”

            There’s an idea.  There’s a conceit.  There’s a brilliant notion hanging from the penis-shaped chandelier above, the one with the carefully-crafted testicle-textured light bulbs.  And I’m in the bar.  The Florida bar.  Give me a coke.  Just a little bit.  Spray in the rye.  As much as you can fit.  Suddenly, it’s…

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