Don’t touch me.
Very briefly, I met colleagues at a venue just off the West 4th St stop. Afterwards, I picked over the embellished tees and skinny jeans, leaving Urban Outfitters SOOOOOOOOOOOO dehydrated! I rolled up to the kiosk just outside the West 4th St station entrance, you know the one….where are the basketball courts are and the McDonald’s is, the one you’d go into and order a quarter pounder with cheese if you weren’t so fucking scared of being discovered by, I don’t know, ANYONE?
ANYWAY, I roll up to the kiosk, and am all, WTF? No Seltzer? What a shit shot. I’m so chewing-on-sand thirsty, I say, give me a Power C Vitamin Water. Whateverthefuck. This little pint-sized piece of shit is ALL UP IN MY JUNK. Like, dumb-retardedly so. He goes past the ostensible plugged in cooler to the ostensibly NOT plugged in cooler and pulls out this bottle that’s the temperature of my asshole. I reach out to grab it and I’m all, uh, go fuck your sons, no. What is this?
Mother fuck STROKES MY HAND. “Everything is so good? Everything is so nice?” Uh, jump up off me, little man. Touch me one more Goddamned time, and you miss that hand. He pulls out ANOTHER bottle of piss-warm vitamin water. Clearly….with the death wish, mother fucker is touching me AGAIN! I’ve known people for 18 months OR MORE who have never felt the glory of my retardedly soft skin, and here is this dumb fuck of a kiosk manager touching me…nay. STROKING ME twice inside of 10 minutes.
I’m SO PISSED at myself for not lunging at that mother fucking and ripping out his carotid artery and letting the sweet bliss of his life force rain out all over us and my vitamin water. It’s these moments that I realize what an under-acheiveing POS I’ve become, just like my Social Science teacher, Mrs. Hayes, predicted so many, many years ago (her own daughter ended up as a prosecuted whore with an illegitimate baby, and yet, I was the “as risk” youth. Too bad I HAD A FUCKING BRAIN.)
Anyway, just venting. It’s a little all over the place. But more a personal reminder to say, “I will slice off your fucking dick if you violate my person EVER.” Because I’m worth it.
Shit for brains.
Just reading your traumatic experience made me feel clammy and jumpy. Nasty horny corner grocers…. EWWWWW….
I can attest to little kiosk rapist… I’ve know you for waaaay longer than 18 months and I’ve never felt your retardedly soft skin…
Oooh creepy. I know exactly where you are. I’ve used that McD’s before for an um emergency pit stop at el bano. Thankfully, sans punks. Super creepy.
I’m a new reader to your blog, and felt compelled to write you a comment. I tend to attract creepy people myself, so I can sympathize with you. Next time he tries it, punch his face in!