Dear mouth-breathers of the CIT
I know you think you own the road. I know you think you are the most badass of the badass. I know you think you are the most important thing to hit the roads since Henry Ford. It’s an honest mistake. Especially for someone who has not passed the mental level of pissing themselves and idly poking their flaccid cocks but..
Hear me now!
You are a bunch of impotent loser cockmuppets, nothing but flaccid, diseased cocks. With suspicious cheesy crusts under the foreskin. And a dubious smell. That stings when I pee. and on the lists of things that are important on the roads you register somewhere between a road cone and road kill. Yet you park wherever the fuck you feel like even when it is impossible for you to do so and then stand around looking mean with your gun in hand. Tell me.. does the Mission Impossible theme play in your head when you do that?
Do you people grow up saying “I want to be a twat with a gun one day”?
What’s the matter? Couldn’t make it into the SAP? Not even the army would take you? ADT? Local Mall??? You don’t even need matric for that.
You’re stupid and even worse than that.. obnoxious about it!
I generally have very low expectations. After I’ve woken I realize my day is unlikely to get any worse and can face the world with a spring in my step. The point of this anecdote being that my low expectations extend to everything an everyone but fuck me with a barbed wire truncheon, your idiocy make my eye-baubles vacillate. It’s disconcerting and painful. Its genuinely painful. Imagine trying to pass a bladder stone the size and consistency of a pineapple. I feel like my vagina, legs and lower back have been set on fire, and then stamped out by an obese clog-dancing troupe, and then pissed on by a lion.
You make me want to shove that motherfucking gun so far up your asshole that you will be shitting bullets with your cornflakes for a week.
I beg of you to take your rightful place in the world and fuck out of my way!