You are a sadistic pervert. My emotions are not a Tickle-Me-Elmo doll to be touched and toyed with at your will. My life is not a game, but if it was, the rules would be changing, because I’m the fucking game master, kid. And if I read the Hunger Games, here is probably where I’d put that reference.
I don’t know what your motives are, and I don’t care. If it stems from the fact that I had Taco Bell for the first time in years over the weekend, I don’t really get the joke, I’ll be honest. If it’s funny and I’m just missing out, let me know.
But I don’t think it’s funny, because I think you’re a dirty bastard. I think you’re Jigsaw from Saw if he was a human and instead of torturing and killing people in a systematic fashion, he left Taco Bell cups outside of peoples’ doors. I don’t have time for this game, child. I am a grown man with grown problems, and I need to paint my nails and flatter myself by laughing at my own jokes. I don’t have time to play a game of Clue, and I really don’t have time to play a game of Clue because I don’t know the rules of Clue and it would probably take a long time for me to learn it and stuff.
But none of that is important. The only thing that is important is that you stop fucking with me, and I’ll tell you why. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for a refill, I can tell you I don’t have soda. But what I also don’t have is a very particular set of skills; skills I haven’t acquired over any sort of career. Skills that would make me a nightmare for people like you if I had them, but I don’t. If you throw away the Taco Bell cup now, that will be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I’ll probably just throw it away myeslf. And that’s a minor inconvenience.
