Open letter to creepy lady I sat beside to in the FX on my way home from school
Hey creepy lady,
Do you know that you talk too loud inside the FX (public shuttle car)? Because you do and you’re voice is really irritating. You know what? I’d rather hear speakers blaring obscene novelty songs than listen to the squeaky, nasal tone of your voice.
Hey, what’s that you have there on your hand? Oh, it’s a picture of the pseudo-famous singing contestant from a well-known reality singing competition ala American Idol… OH MY GOD! Why are you rubbing the photo around thighs?!
Eww, you’re crazy, creepy lady. You’re so whacked-out.
Why, oh why, do you still rub the picture in your hands to your thighs? Do you derive pleasure from rubbing photos in between your legs?
Please stop it, creepy lady; twenty minutes have passed by and you’re still doing it. OK, you’re totally creeping me out… OHMYGAWD, you’re still doing it and now it seems like you’re rubbing it harder around your thighs. Eww…
“Pleasedontkillmecreepylady
Pleasedontkillmeohmygod
Yourstilldoingitstopstop!
Ihavetogetoutofthiscarrightnow…”
- Displays of self-absorption | Time: 1:14 pm (UTC+8)
