Grotesque Page #3

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You can do it!

Right there!

You can do it! Good!

I know you can do it!

Yeah, do it! Right!

Buck up! You did it!

Get a grip!

Go on!

Stand up!

Intersect it!

Yeah, you can do it!

Go! Hurry up!

Hurry up! Play up!

Try harder!

Wire.

It`s OK:
you can cut through.

Was that it?

A futile attempt.

Show me one last

time your will to live.

Hey.

Yes. That is the correct look.

I was with your mother.

She`s a prostitute in Okubo.

A fat whore, with

tons of make-up on her face.

A virus-contaminated sheep!

I was with her.

You look exactly like her.

And you have this thing, too.

Thing?

What thing?

You don't even know?

Tell me.

You really don't know?

I`m sorry for you!

You never had many friends, right?

Am I right?

Above all, girls have always

shunned you.

And only whores like your mother

wanted to have sex with you.

You were never loved

by a woman, right?

Do you know why?

Do you want me to tell you?

It is hereditary.

The genes of your whore-mother.

The prostitute from

Okubo stank like a skunk.

Therefore even drunks didn't want to

go to bed with her.

If she hasn`t told you,

she knew it would not tell itself.

Sh*t happens, son of a b*tch!

I stink?

You and your whore-mother.

You spread a

terrible stench.

Your armpits stink.

Stench...

You cannot smell -

am I right?

This lack of the sense of smell...

is what you have also inherited.

You stink horribly and

you can`t even smell it.

There are people like you.

You stink. That`s the reason why

everybody gets out of your way.

If somebody really

loved you, they would have told you.

If nobody ever said it to you, that means

that no one has ever loved you.

You make these insane

things because you're so lonely.

Am I right?

I am so sorry for you!

Poor devil. You're lonely...

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