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| How 'bout you make make like a tree and stop friggin' staring at me? (Image) |
What the fuck are you staring at?
Yeah, you, with the spotless North Face jacket and the
brand new pair of hiking boots. I’m talking
to you.
It’s been almost twenty minutes and you’re still standing
there, holding your girlfriend in your arms, lovingly rubbing her shoulders to
keep her warm, and gazing at me with gleeful awe like a recently adopted street
urchin in an adequately-stocked kitchen.
You know it’s not even cold outside, right?
Some of the evergreens warned me this would happen. I’ve been riding high for the past six
months, soaking in the rays and trippin’ on chlorophyll. But they told me the fun was going to end
eventually. As soon as the days got
shorter and those cold nights set in they knew things were going to change. And they knew you’d coming running to watch
the horror unfold. And you’d savor
it. You sick fucks.
