Why do you, a pretty woman, feel entitled to wear sunglasses at night without ridicule? This shit looks ridiculous on a man, why do you think it all-ova-sudden looks good on you? Is it because you're wearing those knock-off Prada shades that cover all of your delicately maintained eyebrows? Or is it because they cover half of your fake-tan smeared cheeks? What is it? I don't get it.
That duck face you do when you impulsively take pictures of yourself isn't attractive either. In fact it really just makes me want to strangle you. You come to my counter to buy your bitchy little alcohol with your bitchy little friend. Then you have the gall to ask me if I'll get out of my cashier area, walk down to the gum isle, come back to the cashier area and then ring you up a pack of gum? Oh, because I'm a fat guy, you think I'll be you're private gas station chauffeur and man-servant? Anything to make you like me, Miss Pretty Lady?
Think about it. Is it really so surprising I told you that if you didn't get out of my store I was going to stab you?
Big Mike.
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