/ic/ - Artwork/Critique

What the fuck did you just fucking paint about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Pratt Institute, and I've been involved in numerous secret art galleries galleries, and I have over 300 confirmed masterpieces. I am trained in gorilla and elephant painting and I'm the top inker in the entire US education system. You are nothing to me but just another nude subject. I will cross you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of canvas suppliers across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the X, maggot. The X that crosses out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can paint anywhere, anytime, and I can draw you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in fingerpainting, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Rhode Island School of Design and I will use it to its full extent to erase your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit paint all over you like Jackson fucking Pollock and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.