Fuck faces are everywhere–you know, those special groups of people who’ve been slugged in the face with a heavy bag full of fuck, and they’ve allowed that fuck to fuck up their lives forever. Their sole purpose becomes spreading the disease. They’re similar to dickheads, who run around hitting people with bags of dicks for shits and giggles.
“I’m a fuck face, so to hell with politeness.”
So. I was in Taco Bell with my daughter, step-son, and husband on Mother’s Day. We had stopped for a quick bite of diarrhea burritos on our way to see Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Some dude who’d come in after us thunder butt marched up to the counter and shouted, “Excuse me! Let me ask you all a question. Were my taco shells smashed to fuck when you made them, or did you purposefully smash the shit out of them when you put them on the tray?”
Dude! Slow your roll. There are little kids in here.
Even my mother, who drove drunk with my sister and me ALL THE TIME didn’t stand for people cussing in front of children. Once, she took us to a diner at 2:30 in the morning for dinner, drunk off her ass. It was packed with other drunk bastards, and they were loud, laughing and cussing like mad. My mother stood up, and shouted, “Would you all shut the fuck up?! I’ve got my kids in here!” They’d given her the stink eye, but they fell silent. For one full second.
Yesterday, I allowed some prick to go ahead of me at the grocery Q. Because sometimes I like to make an example of poorly behaved adults. He was in a huff because an elderly woman was writing a check, and taking her dear sweet time about it. I said, “You can go ahead of me, being that your time is so goddamned precious.” The fuck face didn’t even thank me.
Gawd, I loathe precious fuck faces the most, I think. Especially ones that ride up on your ass. Bitch, I will hit the brakes, fucking dare me.
Oh, dear. What if I’m a fuck face, too?