Anyway, I see this bum on the corner geeking with a broken shopping cart, talking to a pigeon like it owes him money. And I’m like, “Yo, this the perfect moment.” I reach into my backpack like I’m unwrapping an Amazon package and pull out that radioactive glow stick like it’s a 7-Eleven taquito forged in the core of the sun. And threw that ♥♥♥♥ at him like i was trying to make it into the Yankees Full wind-up. Olympic discus throw. I hit that man with the uranium fuel rod like it was a glow-in-the-dark honey bun from the Soviet Union. The impact? Biblical. Bro started speaking Morse code in Latin. The pigeon ascended. The cart transformed into a Tesla. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm went off, a baby stopped existing. Homie stood up, brushed nuclear dust off his shoulder, looked me dead in the eye, and turned into ashes like thanos snapped him.
Now I’m banned from 12 square blocks, two Walmarts, and apparently, the Geneva Convention.

hey man who u talking to

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hey man who u talking to