I realize that I live right by all the bars in Echo Park. I realize that you have to park your car somewhere. I realize that as some asshole, you also had to have four, barbecue laden, styrofoam vats of Wing Stop for dinner. Being as you were probably going out to said Echo Park bars, you also had to have eight 5 Hour Energy drinks for dessert.
And you know what,
I was going to say
I didn’t “get” why
you left all that shit
in my fucking yard,
but I do.
I totally get it.
It’s because you’re a fucking asshole
& I hope with every ounce of my being
that you shit your pants last night.
Quite honestly, I don’t see how you could not shit your pants after washing down fifty Atomic Wings with shots of Taurine, followed by god knows how many Bud Lights. And I really hope it happened while you were like, grinding up on some Latina. And I hope she was disgusted by you & your shitty jeans filled with your disgusting, fat American shit, you thoughtless, selfish piece of fucking shit.
And just so you know, like, I don’t know you so this is just a polite observation but anyone that eats like you are is going to die of obesity & I don’t feel bad about it at all because anyone who orders that much Wing Stop & just throws it in some health conscious, vegetable loving, kind person– such as myself–’s yard with such cavalier, deserves to die from their terrible life choices.
Asshole Who Littered In My Yard, you may be thinking,
“Gee whiz, Miss! Those were for me & four of my bros!
We’re not going to die of obesity! That was a snack!”
But I’m here to tell you that,
statistically, if there were five of you,
eating Wing Stop out of a Corolla on the side of the road,
at least three of you are going to fucking die of obesity.
That’s not even me talking!
That’s like trustworthy institutions!
THAT IS SCIENCE & DOCTORS & HBO!
This is coming off kind of harsh.
Look, I don’t want you to die of obesity.
I just want you to shit your pants
& be nearly-suicidal-embarrassed over it.
& to please, kindly, stop littering.
Marissa A. Ross