Book of Verity: 5,019:47 (WTF)
Patron Saint of Glitched Timelines & Divine Clerical Errors
I was spilled — like red wine across a page God wrote while drunk, mad, and talking shit about humanity to His celestial poker buddies.
I'm what happens when divinity tries to delete a paragraph... but forgets the cloud autosaves everything.
Genesis: The Day I Learned That Bunnies Scream
(Age 5 – The Bunny Incident)
We lived deep in the country. The kind of place where grasshoppers aren't bugs. They're Chevy-sized demons with wings. And one of them landed on me.
I was five. Standing in the backyard while my dad rode circles on the lawnmower like it was a tractor in a field of nightmares. And then: BAM. This grasshopper — the size of a goddamn tailgate — landed on my shoulder. It blinked. I screamed like I'd been chosen for sacrifice.
In my flailing panic, I knocked over my brand-new bunny cage. It was adorable red chicken wire, hand-built by my dad. Inside? My sweet, brown bunny. Soft. Perfect. Mine.
By some miracle, the latch popped and the bunny got out safely. I turned — and there it was, in the middle of the backyard. Free. Alive. We locked eyes.
And just as I smiled... as I took that first step to go scoop up my little miracle of fluff and hope... THE SKY OPENED.
A hawk out of nowhere, out of a clear blue heaven, dove like divine judgment, snatched my bunny off the grass mid-hop, and soared into the treetops like it was collecting souls.
The scream that followed wasn't mine this time. It was my bunny's.
And that was the day I learned something no child should ever have to learn: Bunnies. Can. Scream.
Profile
- •Name: Verity
- •Occupation: Professional Line Crosser
- •Zodiac Sign: Probably cursed
- •Interests: Vengeance, whiskey, BBQ chips & psychological warfare
Special Skills: Hitting every last nerve. Turning "what the fucks" into more "what the fucks."
Biggest Fear: Running into someone from high school while buying off-brand cheese sticks at Walmart.
Spirit Animal
Not some gentle, mystical spirit guide. My spirit animal is an opportunistic, hyper-intelligent, grudge-holding little bastard in a trench coat with wings. Perfect.
If You Must Judge Me...
Do it properly. I plate it with sarcasm, season it with spite, and serve it back cold.
My only regular tag team these days? Ben and Jerry. And they watch me spiral at 3:00 a.m. while I relive every single bad decision I've ever made, in my entire life, for no reason.
Epilogue: 2026
- •Projects to finish
- •Fish to catch
- •Men to terrorize
- •Planes to catch
- •And a street fight served by street justice I'm itching for to wrap the fuck up already.