Oh No God-zilla!

O.K. get into this.

So, the other day, I am on the N line on my way home. I had a long day and really didn’t want to deal with anyone. I look up and I see this massive man across from me staring really hard in my direction. The train had just stopped so I over looked it and figured that he’s just looking behind me at people on the platform. The train starts moving but the mother fucker’s still grilling me. Now I’m thinking, O.K. this is definitely the man in everyone’s worst going to prison nightmare. (And. Shame on you who consider it a good dream!) So anyway, where was I? Yeah, this guy was is in my face and looked like a ravenous beast about to go for the kill. All of the sudden, the veins in his huge bald shaven black head cringe and he then manages some twisted attempt at a smile. And I’m thinking O.K. this guy’s nickname is probably “Cookie” and mom thought me never to talk to strangers especially when such a large conflict of interest exists. Then, by some Godly intervention his stop appears and he is forced to burst his queer bubble. However, I can see his refection in the window and this cabron is standing on the platform, now staring at the back of my head, waiting for the archangel of fashion and manicures to perform a miracle or something! ARRRHHH!

I was so relieved when the train doors closed and we began moving.

But, boys and girls the story does not end there.

At the gym today, between the up and down repetitions of my dumbbell set, guess who? Cookie! He was standing there gleaming in approval of the miracle granted by the metrosexual archangel after probably lighting a scented candle and chanting a Madonna tune three times while twisting imaginary cone tits. Great! I just got a three year contract at this place. I wonder when his expires.