The roast of Khoi

I live in the American Gardens Building on W. 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself through a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning if my face is a little puffy I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do 1000 now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.

[color="#000080"]

What a slut.

I am such a slut.

Guess we have an understarding here. Both of you are sluts right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, John, you've to wear clothes in proportion to your physique. There are definite dos and don'ts, good buddy of wearing a bold striped shirt. A bold stripe shirt calls for solid colored or discreetly patterned suits and ties.

Yes, always tip the stylist 15%. Listen, John, I've gotta go, T. Boone Pickens just walked in.

Just joking. No, don't tip the owner of the salon. Okay John? Right? Got it. [/color]

[color="#000080"]



Guess we have an understarding here. Both of you are sluts right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, John, you've to wear clothes in proportion to your physique. There are definite dos and don'ts, good buddy of wearing a bold striped shirt. A bold stripe shirt calls for solid colored or discreetly patterned suits and ties.

Yes, always tip the stylist 15%. Listen, John, I've gotta go, T. Boone Pickens just walked in.

Just joking. No, don't tip the owner of the salon. Okay John? Right? Got it. [/color]

See, I'm a manslut. That means I'm a manwhore. It's okay. But Spidey is a fat manwhore. There's a difference.

Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark!

[color="#000080"] Come on, Bryce. There are a lot more important problems than Sri Lanka to worry about.

Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values. Most importantly, we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people. [/color]

I know my behavior can be... *erratic* sometimes.

You really should go to the doctor's, that psychotic twitching is getting out of hand.

Harold, it's Bateman, Patrick Bateman.

You're my lawyer so I think you should know: I've killed a lot of people. Some girls in the apartment uptown, some homeless people; maybe 5 or 10, and an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun, and some old f'aggott with a dog last week. I killed another girl with a chainsaw. I had to. She almost got away.

There's someone else I can't really remember. Maybe a model, but she's dead too. And Paul Allen. I killed Paul Allen with an axe in the face, his body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here. I guess I've killed 20 people, maybe 40. I have tapes of a lot of it. Some of the girls have seen the tapes. I even, um... I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little.

Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people. And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. I guess I'll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty uh, I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry's Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.

im lucking fost in this thread.

I'm on the verge of tears by the time we arrive at Espace, since I'm positive we won't have a decent table. But we do, and relief washes over me in an awesome wave.

When I see a pretty girl walking down the street, I think two things. One part wants me to take her out, talk to her, be real nice and sweet and treat her right.

The other? What her head would look like on a stick.

[color="#000080"] Okay Greg, this is not gonna last too long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're dating Luis, he's in Arizona. You're f'ucking me and we haven't made plans. What could you possibly be up to tonight? [/color]

But if you did that, you'd expose yourself. Unless you're an exhibitionist, that'd be a real problem. You should learn to control it better and stop running into such embarrassing situations.

I stepped out of the classroom, shutting the door with one hand, and had taken a single step, when, from behind me,

“What were you talking to Hanekawa-san about?”

A voice asked.

I turned around.

As I turned, I was still unable to ascertain the identity of the person behind me – it was an unfamiliar voice. Though I had heard it before... That’s right, during class, it was that feeble voice that always answered “I don’t know” –

“Don’t move.”

From those two words alone, I realized that it was Senjougahara.

In the instant that I faced her squarely, I also realized that she had inserted a cutter-knife into my mouth, as if she had aimed for it, as if she had cut through space and time.

The blade of the cutter-knife was.

Touching the inside of my left cheek.

“!”

“Ah, let me correct myself. ‘You may move if you want to, but it’s dangerous’ would be more accurate in this situation.”

Though she had given me no allowance to move, it wasn’t yet violence, but on the verge of it – the blade was touching the inside of my cheek.

I stood, like a fool, mouth wide open, quivering, but frozen in place.

I’m afraid, I thought.

Not of the cutter-knife.

But of Senjougahara, who, whilst threatening me with a cutter-knife, stared at me coldly, unmoving. Had she –

Had I ever seen her wear such an insecure expression?

I’m confident now.

From Senjougahara’s eyes, I’m confident that, though she didn’t cut me, the side of the cutter-knife touching the inside of my left cheek was not the back of the blade.

“Your curiosity is like that of a cockroach – digging into people’s secrets persistently. It’s unbearingly irritating. You’ve touched my nerves, you boring excuse for a bug.”

“H-hey...”

“What’s wrong? Is your right cheek feeling lonely? You could have told me so in the first place.”

Senjougahara raised her left hand.

That swiftness of movement, as if she was going to slap me. I braced myself, but it didn’t come. No, that wasn’t it.

She was holding a stapler in her left hand.

Before I could ascertain the identity of the object, she had already slipped it into my mouth. Of course, she didn’t put the entire stapler into my mouth, but held it in a way that suggested that she was going to staple my right cheek – as if she was going to bind something, she put it into my mouth.

And, loosely, she pressed down.

As if she was going to staple something.

“…ah”

We're not switching to Bakemonogatari now. Get out.

Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now, you bastard. You stupid f'ucking bastard.

[color="#000080"] I'm f'ucking serious. It's f'ucking over, us, this is no joke. I don't think we should see each other any more.

I know that your friends are my friends and, uh... I've thought about that. You can have 'em. [/color]

I stepped out of the classroom, shutting the door with one hand, and had taken a single step, when, from behind me,

“What were you talking to Hanekawa-san about?”

A voice asked.

I turned around.

As I turned, I was still unable to ascertain the identity of the person behind me – it was an unfamiliar voice. Though I had heard it before... That’s right, during class, it was that feeble voice that always answered “I don’t know” –

“Don’t move.”

From those two words alone, I realized that it was Senjougahara.

In the instant that I faced her squarely, I also realized that she had inserted a cutter-knife into my mouth, as if she had aimed for it, as if she had cut through space and time.

The blade of the cutter-knife was.

Touching the inside of my left cheek.

“!”

“Ah, let me correct myself. ‘You may move if you want to, but it’s dangerous’ would be more accurate in this situation.”

Though she had given me no allowance to move, it wasn’t yet violence, but on the verge of it – the blade was touching the inside of my cheek.

I stood, like a fool, mouth wide open, quivering, but frozen in place.

I’m afraid, I thought.

Not of the cutter-knife.

But of Senjougahara, who, whilst threatening me with a cutter-knife, stared at me coldly, unmoving. Had she –

Had I ever seen her wear such an insecure expression?

I’m confident now.

From Senjougahara’s eyes, I’m confident that, though she didn’t cut me, the side of the cutter-knife touching the inside of my left cheek was not the back of the blade.

“Your curiosity is like that of a cockroach – digging into people’s secrets persistently. It’s unbearingly irritating. You’ve touched my nerves, you boring excuse for a bug.”

“H-hey...”

“What’s wrong? Is your right cheek feeling lonely? You could have told me so in the first place.”

Senjougahara raised her left hand.

That swiftness of movement, as if she was going to slap me. I braced myself, but it didn’t come. No, that wasn’t it.

She was holding a stapler in her left hand.

Before I could ascertain the identity of the object, she had already slipped it into my mouth. Of course, she didn’t put the entire stapler into my mouth, but held it in a way that suggested that she was going to staple my right cheek – as if she was going to bind something, she put it into my mouth.

And, loosely, she pressed down.

As if she was going to staple something.

“…ah”

This is so hot.

At least then the pie would be fresh, unlike someone I know.

Quasi Moto what the hell is with your gender issues.
I mean seriously, do you want to become a female lesbian?

Quasi Moto what the hell is with your gender issues.
I mean seriously, do you want to become a female lesbian?

Are you turned on?