I'm not gonna lie, man, I don't want to kill you, though you think otherwise—I just want to punch you in your lizard lips just once. One good crack to remind you that your sleazy, cheater raver ways are pretty fucking sketch for a thirty-five year old. But you won't play. You're a man of your weak-ass times. I understand why you're hesitant. I've been boxing since I was a kid. A crack from me will not feel good. All I can say, is my fist won't feel good either. I've punched a lot of people. Nobody really wins. Here's your choice: take a crack from me, a Portland fucking working-class native, or move the fuck back to wherever shitheads like you come from—you're BMW looks pretty fast. Otherwise, every scary person I know hangs out at your regular bars. Maybe next time someone says you stay away from their girlfriend, you'll fucking listen and go back to cheating on your wife somewhere else.