I don't know where in the fuck this other glove is.Granted, I've been awake for 72 hours straight, but I'm still pretty sure I packed it in the bag. I may only vaguely remember that shit, but it's enough that I believe it. However, I can't seem to locate this motherfucker while swerving through traffic on the highway. So I strap on my remaining thriller-glove, light a cigar and dance in my rearview mirror while flipping digits at every sorry human being I habitually cut the fuck off in traffic. Yeah, they have lives too, but I'm conducting technological orchestras on my phone over here... while grossly endangering their pathetic lives.
My bad I guess, I'm extremely impatient and forgetful. If I wanna write this shit down, you can die...I could give a fuck. Besides, I'm like James Goddamn Motherfuckin' Bond behind a wheel. Shooting gaps, J-turns and all kinds of other shit. Trust me, they're safe as long as they don't try to fuck up what I'm doing. I'm usually very considerate on the road...probably because I force myself to just chill out and not explode....with some of the most expertly beautiful road-rage typically executed by me. I am somewhat of an artist with that shit.
In the majority of my time on the road, I witness large amounts of other people just being dicks. The thing is, I'll never encounter most of those people on the road ever again. So, they totally get away with it. I embrace that. It's why I participate in that statistic on a regular basis. What the fuck is going to stop me if I'm fairly sure I'll get away with it? Nah, I'm gonna get mine too. I will cut your shit off this road...like, dangerously. I'll never see you again. Which also why I drooled a little bit while I was blatantly staring at your wife's miraculous rack (for real, it got that close). The fuck what you think, I will get away with this.
Give me a break though. It was a long weekend full of shit, fun, violence, alcohol, and other...
Now I'm home and bored. I think the best way to kill some time is to go fuck my hand like I paid for the night. I'ma beat my dick. I'ma beat my dick. Then make a sandwich at some point.
Magic me up some bitches. This mothafucker's on fire.
-"You should probably change up the whole crazy-ass hair and beard. Bitches are almost more frightened than intrigued. It looks kinda Manson-ish."
-"But... like... a sexy Manson, right?"
