HP40 HP40 HP40 HP40 HP40 HP40

It is the chant running through my head. HP 40 HP 40 HP 40 HP 40 HP 40 HP 40 HP 40 HP 40. The escape is planned, employment opportunities sought and soon the plot will thicken with the turn of raw hands and the twiddling of bleeding fingers. Also, here is a picture of my fat, flabby, abusive ex-boyfriend. (I think I can afford to be spiteful today.)