Questioning.

I guess it's my mother's fault because I hate asking. I remember when I was a child we lived in a condo and she was the icon of the housewife that sent her kids around the building for salt, sugar, eggs, even toilet rolls. I was really shy, so much shy that I was able to stutter even on a three word question.

I mean, if you need that shit and you don't want to move your precious arse to the store, why don't you go to your neighbour asking yourself?

Anyway, I fucking hate asking. Each time I've been leaded to do that, I feel really unconfortable, whatever the question is.

But, for the most, I bloody hate when I finally throw there my question and instead of receiving a clear simple answer, I get a boring infinite monologue that says nothing or (worse) they change topic.

Please, gimme a gun. I have to clean the world...