Listen here skinny dude with your nine kids, or you old man with your lack of patience and liver spots, or you, you twelve year old kid with your 50 dollar bills, or you Mr. I Wear a Sweater in 80 Degree Weather… screw all of you. Does it look like I have anyway of adding up 4 hot dogs, 6 burgers, 3 pops, 2 bags of chips and 4 ice cream sandwiches? Then tell me a minute later you want a pop corn? No way. Screw you. Give me some goddamn credit old man, I can’t do shit about your onions and lack of relish. Shut up kid, you’re ugly, and nobody likes ugly kids flaunting money. And you Mr. Sweater Boy, I’m not going to wait for you when there are 12 people behind you and your neon cell phone with the “Oops I Did it Again” ring tone goes off. Did we all forget I was a volunteer? Did we all forget that I could get up and leave any time I wanted? And you would have to ride your bikes all the way to Wesco to get a goddamn candy bar. Because half a block is so long when you just biked all the way across the state. It’s not my fault you have your biker shorts shoved so far up your ass that you can’t walk all the way over to the Gatorade machine and buy yourself a drink. Yeah we don’t have any Power Aid Bars, and that’s all my fault. I’m the Power Aid Bar Bitch. And if you ask me if I have coffee one more time and then pout when I say no once again… I’ll cut you.