Lit up

HEY! YOU! Yeah, YOU... look at me!

Hey Fuckbeans, why do you feel the need to light up a fucking Marlboro the moment you're a half a step outside of the Wall Street 4 train station? You can't wait to get to the sidewalk, so your non-SuperEgo-havin' ass feels you must light up and blow cancer into my face when we're not even up the goddamn steps yet.

Prickdousche chickenfucker. I want to throw a mug full of prostate cancer on your cheap-ass jacket.