If there is one thing I hate with all my being, it's an ill-behaved child.
They are the motherfucking BANE OF MY EXISTENCE!
I hate their incompetent parents the most though, for not teaching them SHIT and allowing the little bastards to get away with the most ludicrous garbage.
There are days when I deal with little fuckheads better than others.
Anyone... anything could tell this week is DEFINITELY not the week to fuck with me. Whether you're 70, or seven, stay the fuck away from me and my shit unless you want me to unleash my wrath upon you.
Well, apparently a little 10 year old cunt was not too good on catching social cues, and I. Made. Her. Cry.
Yessir. I made a ten year old little bitch cry. In church.
Hear me out:
I was minding my own business, sitting in the 5th bench from the front row at church. Mom was sitting to my right, no one to my left, since I was at the very edge of the bench.
Before Mass starts, some person is always up in the front leading the rest of the congregation in praying the rosary. At the end, they always make us stand up, they say some closing prayer, and we once again take our seats and wait for Mass to start.
SO, this happens, we stand up, sit back down, and then four ladies decide to sit in our row, so Mom scoots closer to me. That's when she remembers "Oh, the envelope with the money offering," and looks to her right (where she so stupidly placed it. I always place the damn envelope directly in front of me... because you never know what people are capable of... especially in these tough economic times, also, I place it there because I'd probably forget it if I didn't).
Anyway, once Mom looks to her right, she notices it is no longer there.
It was there before we stood up for the rosary thing... hmmm... 2+2...
Mom started looking around, even in the missals. We both pretty much made a scene looking everywhere for the freaking envelope. I even looked under the bench.
Oh, you silly, silly dumb-dumb... do you not think straight? It's a motherfucker in the back. Someone behind us took it.
I was convinced one of the members of the family of four behind us had taken it.
I looked back at them, and they very cynically stared back at me... so I stared even harder... I glared.
I KNOW one of you took it, you son of a bitch!
When Mass started, I turned my entire body to face the family (under the guise that I was following the procession, which starts at the back of church). I continued glaring...
You ROBBED ME... AND IN GOD'S HOUSE... YOU MOTHERFUCKER. It's ten fucking dollars! You condemned yourself for TEN FUCKING DOLLARS!
I stood tall and gave them my best "You're such a fucking piece of shit" look.
Since I'm stubborn, and I'm a fucking C-U-N-T when I want to be (especially when someone STEALS from me), I sat through the rest of mass with my body turned slightly to my right, my face turned to my right, making sure they could see me LOOKING at them throughout mass.
I'd occasionally look directly at them, look them up and down, shake my head, and look back at the priest.
I. AM. A. BITCH. (when I want to be)
Th whole time my chest is ready to explode from the rage. I can't even swallow... I swear I'm going to suffer a heart-attack. All I really want to do is get in the face of the Mom, Dad, Ten year old daughter, and six year old son and scream at the top of my lungs.
GIVE ME MY MOTHERFUCKING MONEY BACK! THAT ENVELOPE HAS MY FUCKING STREET ADDRESS!
I was bewildered at the thought of someone robbing you blind... IN CHURCH. Of all fucking places.
Anyway, I survive mass without saying a damn word or causing a ruckus. Well, there was ONE part where the little boy threw one of his two ping pong balls into my leg, and I stomped on it, completely destroying it (another HUGE pet-peeve of mine is when parents bring toys for their kids to church. The shithead is SIX, that motehrfucker better know how to sit still for an hour. If he can't, then DON'T come in and disturb the peace. Suck a dick if you want to argue over this... oh wait, that's what got you in this predicament in the first place).
By the time Mass ended, I KNEW who the guilty party was, because when it came time to give our $ offering, the ten year old told her Dad
"Papi, que hago con esto? Lo encontre allí." aka "Daddy, what do I do with this? I found it there."
"Just leave it here," he said, placing an envelope in the little missal cubby on the back of my bench.
I stared right at it.
AHA!! YOU SON OF A BIIIIITCH!
The dad left before Mass was over, so I got WAY more courage once Mass was over. I turned around, looked in the cubby, saw my envelope, felt my blood boil, and I stared at the duckbfuck mom--who wasn't making eye-contact, which was weird since I made a fucking scene as I turned around and dug my hand in the cubby, right in her fucking face, not moving my eyes off her.
Mom looked to see what I was doing, and once she saw the envelope in my hand, she was pissed.
Me: Para la proxima, no VUELVAS a tocar algo que NO ES TUYO! Eso se llama ser RATERA.
(Next time, don't EVER touch something that ISN'T YOURS! That is called being a THIEF)
I said it directly in the face of the little girl... I got down to her level and practically spelled it out to her.
Mom was shaking her head.
Mom: Porque no le enseña modales a su hija? Eso no se le hace a nadie... gente mañosa.
(Why don't you teach your daughter some manners? You don't do that to anyone... cheap people)
We were pissed, because clearly these fucking imbeciles saw their retard of an offspring (she was NOT really retarded. Fucking little brat was alert as hell, she was just being a fucking asshole when she took our envelope) take our envelope, and they STILL didn't hand it to us when they saw us searching for the thing like fucking maniacs.
Anyway, this went down as the choir was singing and the procession was heading back out of church, so obviously the priest didn't see what was going on, but EVERYONE in our surrounding did... especially when the dumb little idiot started to cry.
Tough love.
I assure you that little bitch isn't going to touch shit that doesn't belong to her EVER again.
You're welcome, world.
Now someone get me a promoter, I think I'm ready for the damn UFC.
They are the motherfucking BANE OF MY EXISTENCE!
I hate their incompetent parents the most though, for not teaching them SHIT and allowing the little bastards to get away with the most ludicrous garbage.
There are days when I deal with little fuckheads better than others.
Anyone... anything could tell this week is DEFINITELY not the week to fuck with me. Whether you're 70, or seven, stay the fuck away from me and my shit unless you want me to unleash my wrath upon you.
Well, apparently a little 10 year old cunt was not too good on catching social cues, and I. Made. Her. Cry.
Yessir. I made a ten year old little bitch cry. In church.
Hear me out:
I was minding my own business, sitting in the 5th bench from the front row at church. Mom was sitting to my right, no one to my left, since I was at the very edge of the bench.
Before Mass starts, some person is always up in the front leading the rest of the congregation in praying the rosary. At the end, they always make us stand up, they say some closing prayer, and we once again take our seats and wait for Mass to start.
SO, this happens, we stand up, sit back down, and then four ladies decide to sit in our row, so Mom scoots closer to me. That's when she remembers "Oh, the envelope with the money offering," and looks to her right (where she so stupidly placed it. I always place the damn envelope directly in front of me... because you never know what people are capable of... especially in these tough economic times, also, I place it there because I'd probably forget it if I didn't).
Anyway, once Mom looks to her right, she notices it is no longer there.
It was there before we stood up for the rosary thing... hmmm... 2+2...
Mom started looking around, even in the missals. We both pretty much made a scene looking everywhere for the freaking envelope. I even looked under the bench.
Oh, you silly, silly dumb-dumb... do you not think straight? It's a motherfucker in the back. Someone behind us took it.
I was convinced one of the members of the family of four behind us had taken it.
I looked back at them, and they very cynically stared back at me... so I stared even harder... I glared.
I KNOW one of you took it, you son of a bitch!
When Mass started, I turned my entire body to face the family (under the guise that I was following the procession, which starts at the back of church). I continued glaring...
You ROBBED ME... AND IN GOD'S HOUSE... YOU MOTHERFUCKER. It's ten fucking dollars! You condemned yourself for TEN FUCKING DOLLARS!
I stood tall and gave them my best "You're such a fucking piece of shit" look.
Since I'm stubborn, and I'm a fucking C-U-N-T when I want to be (especially when someone STEALS from me), I sat through the rest of mass with my body turned slightly to my right, my face turned to my right, making sure they could see me LOOKING at them throughout mass.
I'd occasionally look directly at them, look them up and down, shake my head, and look back at the priest.
I. AM. A. BITCH. (when I want to be)
Th whole time my chest is ready to explode from the rage. I can't even swallow... I swear I'm going to suffer a heart-attack. All I really want to do is get in the face of the Mom, Dad, Ten year old daughter, and six year old son and scream at the top of my lungs.
GIVE ME MY MOTHERFUCKING MONEY BACK! THAT ENVELOPE HAS MY FUCKING STREET ADDRESS!
I was bewildered at the thought of someone robbing you blind... IN CHURCH. Of all fucking places.
Anyway, I survive mass without saying a damn word or causing a ruckus. Well, there was ONE part where the little boy threw one of his two ping pong balls into my leg, and I stomped on it, completely destroying it (another HUGE pet-peeve of mine is when parents bring toys for their kids to church. The shithead is SIX, that motehrfucker better know how to sit still for an hour. If he can't, then DON'T come in and disturb the peace. Suck a dick if you want to argue over this... oh wait, that's what got you in this predicament in the first place).
By the time Mass ended, I KNEW who the guilty party was, because when it came time to give our $ offering, the ten year old told her Dad
"Papi, que hago con esto? Lo encontre allí." aka "Daddy, what do I do with this? I found it there."
"Just leave it here," he said, placing an envelope in the little missal cubby on the back of my bench.
I stared right at it.
AHA!! YOU SON OF A BIIIIITCH!
The dad left before Mass was over, so I got WAY more courage once Mass was over. I turned around, looked in the cubby, saw my envelope, felt my blood boil, and I stared at the duckbfuck mom--who wasn't making eye-contact, which was weird since I made a fucking scene as I turned around and dug my hand in the cubby, right in her fucking face, not moving my eyes off her.
Mom looked to see what I was doing, and once she saw the envelope in my hand, she was pissed.
Me: Para la proxima, no VUELVAS a tocar algo que NO ES TUYO! Eso se llama ser RATERA.
(Next time, don't EVER touch something that ISN'T YOURS! That is called being a THIEF)
I said it directly in the face of the little girl... I got down to her level and practically spelled it out to her.
Mom was shaking her head.
Mom: Porque no le enseña modales a su hija? Eso no se le hace a nadie... gente mañosa.
(Why don't you teach your daughter some manners? You don't do that to anyone... cheap people)
We were pissed, because clearly these fucking imbeciles saw their retard of an offspring (she was NOT really retarded. Fucking little brat was alert as hell, she was just being a fucking asshole when she took our envelope) take our envelope, and they STILL didn't hand it to us when they saw us searching for the thing like fucking maniacs.
Anyway, this went down as the choir was singing and the procession was heading back out of church, so obviously the priest didn't see what was going on, but EVERYONE in our surrounding did... especially when the dumb little idiot started to cry.
Tough love.
I assure you that little bitch isn't going to touch shit that doesn't belong to her EVER again.
You're welcome, world.
Now someone get me a promoter, I think I'm ready for the damn UFC.
No comments:
Post a Comment