Pardon me, but these fuckers, they’re buying blotto tickets and they’re fucking with my serenity. Moving my bright red mop bucket for an emergency and they act like I got nothing to do but wait for them. I say excuse me, but they can tell I’m just a retired railroad worker. Not really, bastards fired me for sleeping on the job. I was too old to get anything but dragging the mop at this 20 trillion square foot grocery store. Heading for the Indian spice aisle that makes me puke to pick up some used diaper some shithead left there.