Part 2Game On: The Unfiltered Star

The Jungler started to reply, "Your mouth..."

I cut him off. "Brother, stand down. Don't interrupt my flow."

The Jungler had a nice voice, but I didn't have time to appreciate it.

I took a sip of water to clear my throat.

"You sound like an expert. Done this a lot? Need me to introduce you to some clients so you can make some cash? You sound jealous."

"With a mouth like that, you could open a stinky tofu stand without buying supplies."

"If the vice squad picked you up, they wouldn't even need an interrogation. One look at that mouth and it's life without parole."

He got excited hearing my voice. "Ooh, hit a nerve, did I? Triggered much? Hahahaha!"

My comeback was rapid-fire.

"Triggered? I'm not the one who's 1-7. If I had your stats, I'd have smashed my keyboard by now. Anyone with hands could do better."

"Hey, you know what? Only triggered people accuse others of being triggered. Takes one to know one, right?"

I was feeling great. Since entering showbiz, I've had to wear a mask—no eye-rolling, no frowning, always smiling.

Today, this guy walked right into the line of fire. All my pent-up frustration was unleashed on him.

As a former keyboard warrior, I have my own set of rules.

Rule #1: Be loud. Volume establishes dominance.

But avoid banned words. Swearing is weak.

On the internet, I am an orphan. My family tree begins and ends with me. That's the only way to be invincible.

I stood up, fully immersed in the roast, unaware that the Jungler was a pro player named Frost, and he was live to over 100,000 people.

[Sister isn't using curse words but every sentence is lethal. Satisfying.]

[If I were that Mid, I'd die of anger.]

[Sister went off! Please open a masterclass, I'm on my knees listening!]