This is not cool, bro. Took my driver’s-side mirror right the fuck off. Hanging by an electrical cord. If it wasn’t motorized, that shit would be just lying there in the goddamn street. Not cool.
Is this how your mother raised you? Hit someone’s ride and then not even leave a note? What, were you born in a barn? WWJD, man? He’d be born in a barn, but he would leave a fuckin’ note if he hit someone’s car. That’s all I’m saying. This is very uncool.
Oh! What the fuck is this shit? The rear left panel is dented! There’s a fuckin’ gash in it! What, do you have a goddman awl mounted on your bumper? This is some fuckin’ Mad Max shit. What the fuck? No note. Who are you, the John Gotti of Loring Park? Like you can just put a gash in some dude’s J30 and fear no reprisal? Oh, there will be a reprisal, brother. There will be blood. And it’s going to be a lot less boring than that Daniel Day-Lewis shit, because there won’t be any establishing shots or panoramas. There will just be 158 minutes of pure blood. Your blood. Asshole!
I’m gonna…what? What is this shit? What is this yellow stain in the snow and on my…you dick! What a douche! Did you actually piss on my car? Who does this shit? I mean, what the fuck, bro?! What, did you actually park your car, come back, whip your dick out, and piss on my car after you hit it? What are we, animals? Are you a dog? Like, some goddamn Shih Tzu? No. No, clearly you are not, because even if fucking dogs had opposable thumbs, they wouldn’t awl the fuck out of someone’s car and then come back and piss on it. They’ve got better things to do, like sniff other dogs’ asses. Clearly, you do not. This is not cool, bro. Not the slightest fucking bit cool.
Oh. I see. There’s a note. In an envelope. Well, how fucking civilized. This ought to be good. Let’s see…what? “This color is ugly.” That is all you have to say to me, man? After you scraped the shit out of my car and then pissed on it? No insurance details? No apology? Just some cold words about my gold chassis? Motherfucker, this was the only color with automatic transmission, okay? You have got to learn some manners, and I’m going to teach you. I don’t know exactly how, but it will somehow involve this used condom you have also left in the envelope. That was a mistake, bro. You have just given your frozen semen to your worst enemy, and you are going to find yourself in a world of hurt.
I’m going over the top, asshole—like in the arm-wrestling sense, but not literally, metaphorically, because a mere defeat at arm wrestling is too good for you. A world of hurt, bro, a world of hurt. Because I’m sorry, this shit is just not cool.
– Jay Gabler