Stop Touching Me

Quit it. Leave me alone. Arrrg! Stop touching me!

What's your problem? Can you please just stop? Seriously. Just stop. Stop. Please. Stop touching me!

This is so stupid. Why can't you leave me alone? This is so immature. Just stop it. Okay? Quit it. Pretty please. With sugar on top. And a big ole cherry and some whipped cream. I'm asking nicely. Please stop. Stop touching me!

Fine. I see how it is. You obviously have some type of problem. You just can't keep your hands off me. I don't blame you. I am quite the specimen. But this is getting ridiculous. I need you to stop now. Okay. Stop. No more. That is enough. Enough. Enough! Stop touching me!

You wanna be that way? Okay. I'll just ignore you then. I'm not paying attention to you. You don't exist as far as I am concerned. What was that? Did someone say something? I didn't hear it. Must be a ghost or something. I'll just quietly sit here. All by myself. No one else around. I can't feel that. If someone else were here, I'd imagine they would be getting bored now. Especially if that person were being an annoying jerk. Stop! Quit! Stop touching me!

That is it! I've had enough! Keep your goddamn fucking hands to yourself, alright? Touch me one more time, asshole, and I swear to God that I am gonna beat your fucking ass. Keep it up, motherfuck. If this is what you want, then I am gonna crack your fucking skull. Yep. Keep it up, asshole. Keep it up. Okay, how does that feel? Hunh? You like that? You want it harder? You wanna get pimp slapped? How's that? You want another? Okay, here you go. You keep touching me and I'll keep slapping you. Here's another one. And another. Fucker. Take that. And that. Stop! I said stop! You goddamn fucking mother fucker! Stop touching me!

I Am Angry

Today I'm angry. Why am I angry? I don't know. Maybe I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe someone pissed in my cornflakes. Maybe something crawled up my butt and died. Maybe my panties are in a bunch. Maybe I got sand in my vagina. Maybe I need to turn my frown upside down sad clown. Or maybe, just maybe, it's none of your goddamn business.

I am angry today. I am on a rampage. Get out of my way if you know what's best.

A neighbor's small yellow dog greeted me as I walked out the door this morning. So I kicked it. See, what did I tell you? I am angry. I am bitter and mean. Don't try to cheer me up. In fact, why don't you just go shut the hell up.

While driving to work, an old man tried to merge into my lane in front of me. Just who does he think he is? You do not get in my way. Not today you don't. So I sped up and forced him to exit when he did not want to. I am angry. I am ruthless. People should know better than to mess with me. I am like a product with a warning label that says "Danger, contents under pressure". Leave me alone. And don't you even think about talking back to me. Not unless you want to talk to my fist.

Then I was walking down the hallway at work, and some woman smiled at me and said "hi." So I said, "yeah, whatever." She's lucky that's all I said. It could have been much worse. I am angry. Do not smile at me. Do not try to be my friend. Do not even look at me, or you will be looking at my middle finger. And you can stick it up your butt and suck it.

Then the boss man came by and actually asked me to do some work for him. Does he not realize that I am angry today? So I took his work and did a half ass job. Then I took a two hour lunch. I am angry. I am a viscious bastard, a ruthless son of a bitch. I am Mt. Vesuvius and you are the town of Pompeii. Prepare to be buried under my soot and ash.

While at lunch, I was eating my cheese enchiladas and the waitress asked if I would like some more water. Big mistake. I accepted her refill, then did not drink one more drop thus causing her restauraunt to waste water. Then I only tipped her ten percent. This is what you get when I am angry. It may not be pretty, but it is the harsh reality. You picked a bad day to cross my path. I am a tornado and you are a redneck family living in a trailer park. Prepare to have your NASCAR memorabilia strewn across the countryside.

After lunch, some doofus coworker asked if I had big plans for the weekend. "Yeah, I got plans for the weekend," I said. "I got plans to sneak into your house and stab you forty seven times." He thought I was joking. I am not joking. This is not comedy laugh laugh time. I am angry and I mean it. I am like God in the Old Testament and you are Lot's wife fleeing the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Better not look back unless you want to spend the rest of your life as a pillar of salt.

Leaving work, the traffic was crazy, so I went to the book store. I headed to the back where the cafe is and ordered a medium coffee. The clerk said, "How about I give you a large coffee since we're out of medium cups." I thought about saying, "How about I kick the crap out of you and pee in your mouth," but I didn't because I was too angry. Then I sat down and fumed. Angrily. Steaming from my nostrils. My front hoof pawing the ground. Today I am angry.