[Witty]

Originally Posted by Badweather

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."

lmaaaoooooooooooooooo