such a bad mood
I'm in such a bad mood, I wouldn't blink at the thought of:
• Kicking the shit out of a small gang of Cub Scouts
• Stealing an old lady's steel walker and taunting her with it
• Making a doo-doo atop a complete stranger's head.
I know I'm forbidden to be in bad moods anymore—it scares people, and if I so much as raise my voice these days, someone might freak out, call in the Nut Doctors, and I wind up getting electroshock therapy, which would suck—but as sure as my Listerine Pocket Pak-enhanced breath rattles in my rib cage, I'd love to smash something to dust right now.
Except for the fact that I was able to urinate and take a shower—and, truth be told, urinate while taking a shower—EVERYTHING WENT WRONG TODAY. Old problems. New problems. Old and new problems fusing together in a Fudgy Problematic Swirl. Major disappointments. Minor annoyances. Hungry as fuck and the only place open is Taco Bell, and after waiting five minutes for some high-school retard service worker to finally appear at the cash register, she coughs and gobs repeatedly into her food-molesting hands and asks me what I'd like. I walk out into the cold windy darkness, hungry and ready to step on someone's toes.
It's partially my fault, I know. But it's also everyone else's fault. It's YOUR fault. And YOUR fault. And YOUR fault over there. I've made a list of all your indiscretions, and it's available for a small fee.
