Breathing I is held every fucking Friday in my office. It's a fucking smoking room and you can't fucking die from second hand smoke any way and don't you dare fucking complain.

Here are my fucking house rules. Don't like it, don't fucking turn up. That's your fucking problem. But if I have to fucking hunt anybody's asses down, I swear you won't like what I will fucking do to you. Think being a ghost means you can't die again? Think again.

- if you are going to fucking bring in food and drinks, you better fucking bring some for me too.
- if you are going to be fucking late, don't bother turning up.
- don't fucking interrupt me when I'm talking. Don't understand me? Too bad, sucks to be you.
- I will not fucking repeat myself, so it's better for you to fucking pay attention.
- forward all complaints to that fucking cat.

Let me make this fucking clear to all you fucktards over here. I'm the fucking teacher in charge of teaching you how to fucking breathe. Or not breathe. How you have no idea how to do it properly though you have been doing this your entire fucking life, I have no idea. No, dying is not a fucking excuse.

So- sucks to be you. You HAVE to take this fucking class. I'll put up the house rules later on this post after my smoke break. Don't like it? Go complain to the bitch who put me in charge.

And the name is Wanijima Kaito. I hear anything other than a fucking 'sir' from you, I'll fucking make you a new hole to breathe from, you hear me?!