You must be lookin' at me, motherfucker. I remember you. You're the guy I saw in the restroom while at "work." You with the jean shorts. Who the fuck still wears jean shorts? Why are you lookin' at me? Why are you lookin' at me like that? Asshole. You judgin' me? You judgin' me, motherfucker?? I'm judgin' you -- you're an asshole whom I have to deal with because we work on the same goddamn floor. Fuck you, old fashion victim asshole.
And ... yeah, I see you lookin' at me too, shrunken-headed motherfucker, but I'm sorry because I started lookin' at you. You got a shrunken head! I'm sorry to stare, but you got a shrunken head, I can't help it! The game was over and I had all this visual stimuli of people leaving and I fixated on you because you got a shrunken head! You stand out because you have a shrunken head! I didn't mean to look your way to stare at your shrunken head a second time as I was passing you by, but like I said, I couldn't help it! You wanna fight? You wanna go? If that's the way you have to be, OK. You'll have a leg up on me because you've got a shrunken head. Less area to punch. Just sayin'.
(It'd be weird and funny if that shrunken-headed guy had a blog just like mine and he's typing out a post also called "You Lookin' At Me, Motherfucker?)
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