He was the last person I would expect to see in line to buy my new book, let alone let me sign it. God, he was such an ass-hole to me. Not only an ass-hole, but God... why is he here. Does he want my signature? Or is he here to apologize? Or is he going to be an ass-hole still. I bet he's going to say something really shitty to me. Something petty and lame. God, should I tell the store owners that he is a threat? Would they escort him out? But if he's here to fight with me I don't want him here, but if he's going to apologize I don't want to hurt him. Fuuuuck. God. Well, I'll sign his fucking book, but if he doesn't apologize to me I'm going to write "to: Fuckface" under my signature. God, never mind, if I do that he may sell it on Ebay and make money off of it. I don't want to give him a dime. Ug. I guess I just have to act like he's just another person. That's it! I'll just act like I don't know him. That will fuck him up. Great way to hurt him but not give him anything to work with. Yeah, fuck him.
"Hey Steve" Shit.
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The impersonal blog of Nicholas Cueva, the once and future artist of America.
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