My day had a startling awakening. I found it to be an almost incomprehensibly frigid 55 degrees Farenheight in my fantastic and legendary apartment. In addition, to my dismay, I could not locate my favorite Argyle patterned cotton wool mixture heavy duty MADE IN AMERICA winter socks. AND I was hungry. Such a ghastly tragedy at such an early hour (11:35 am Eastern). I am not sure I could fathom a more frustrating opening sequence to the legendary narrative that was my life. Thoughts started to concoct in my thick head that today could already be perhaps shaping to be the worst of my entire life.
Then the really absurd started to happen. Fast forward to me standing in line, just properly queuing at McDonalds discussing the finer aspects of religion with a complete religious enthusiast. He was wearing some type of silly head gear (a fez I believe they're called).
I barked at him "Religion in a morel travesty, dangerous, and a complete insult to logic and, moreoever, proper decency and good taste. Shame on you Sir. Do not babble nonsense rhetoric about Jesus coming to save me! If God truly existed, then why were my socks misplaced JUST this morning?" My mind began to wander. I was becoming heated and I was beginning to forget what I was going to order. My eyes raced across the bright glows of the McDonalds menu with it's tempting reds and yellows, scrumptous looking egg sandwiches and glistening bacon, dripping with temptation of the highest form.
The religious man shut up for a change and I was now reciting my order over and over in my head. I imagined exactly how the food should look when it is served to me. Everything should be neat and precise. Like it looks in the advertisement. I began to shudder at the the thought of a misarranged platter or subpar food when I was hastily accosted by a mentally ill crackhead. He was an African American man, so filthy and stink ridden that it made it impossible to guess his age. A blue jumpsuit adorned his feeble body and hunched posture.
"Hands off me at once you filthy mouthbreather! I should have you arrested for battery this instant!" I bellowed at him. Half of the restaurant was now focusing a portion of their weak attention spans on me. I was staring at the bum with revulsion boring straight into his glazed over eyes.
"C'mon man, I'm homeless and hungry. Lemme get a dollar for a hamburger. C'mon mayne" he pleaded. He then embraced me and drooled on my shoulder. I was shocked and angry all at once, disgusted and furious. I felt emotion well inside of me.
"You IMBECILE! You have slobbered on me in your rhapsody at the thought of food! Control yourself and do not touch me! I will now inform the management of this transgression and your fate is soon to be sealed. You shall be banned from this establishment all together." I now began swearing and demanding the attention of the ladies behind the counter.
"You FOOLS, have you not just witnessed the crackhead drooling on me? Get me a napkin at ONCE! Hurry, I must wipe the spit off my jacket! It might be contaminated with AIDS!" They instructed me to procure a napkin from the area adjacent to the soda filling station.
Needless to say, I lost my position in line. The bum began to make his way towards the door with a look of sorrow and regret to his face. Then in the next instant, I presume because of his mental incapacity to remain calm, he snapped. He shouted "FUCK YOUUU FATTY" very loudly and stormed out of the restaurant.
Now perhaps screaming at the ghetto trashbag for drooling on my favorite jacket was a little unnecessary and rude, especially in a fine dining establishment such as McDonalds, but for him to call me FATTY in front of everyone is just as rude and uncalled for. Normally, I would defend anyones RIGHT to say anything they want anywhere, as freedom of speech is protected by the First Amendment, and we are living in AMERICA after all. But to call me fat, well that's just his stupid opinion, and his stupid opinion is wrong at that. Therefore it's a lie, and I don't think lying is allowed in this great nation of ours. In addition, I believe that homeless people aren't protected under the Constitution (it's been a while since I've read it. It's not like I'm some brown nose politician who keeps a copy on his or her desk. gufflol).
I can't help it if my presence is too much for one to bear. If I eat too much, or talk too loudly in the middle of a movie, well SORRRRY. Sometimes I forget that I live in the land of the FREE, and I'm not allowed to excersize my RIGHTS inside of a movie theater. Why not just lock me up in Guantanamo Bay for being a terrorist. I'll eat my cheesesteaks, french fries, mountain dew, free-tohs and ice cream in a movie theater if I so please, and if you don't like my talking, well then you can get out of my country.
I am an extremely talented and well liked person and honestly can't risk contracting AIDS from a bum who molests me and pleads for my change. I've got too much going for me right now. I'm going to catch my big break soon, I know it. I guess it wasn't the worst day ever, but it was pretty god damn close.
Oh, and the picture is unrelated to story, although I did masturbate it to it. It's an Audi R8.
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