100 Bullets, or Train Station Bathroom Conversations

You know what’s what.
You know what time it is.
You know the deal.
I will put 100 bullets in your motherf*ckin’ ass.
You ain’t no man.
You ain’t even an animal.
Animal’s got more intelligence than you.
Don’t act like you don’t know what’s what.
100 motherf*ckin’ bullets in your motherf*ckin’ ass.
Shit.

11 Responses to “100 Bullets, or Train Station Bathroom Conversations”

  1. brandon Says:

    i think you may have went into the wrong restroom.
    don’t worry, it happens to us all. often.

  2. shari Says:

    I think you may have gone into the wrong train station, or maybe the wrong city.
    Wenatchee, is all I’m saying.

  3. Nanuk Says:

    You might want to consider de-caff… your seeming kind of uptight in this post

  4. jenny Says:

    brandon: i’m still not even sure if that woman was actually talking to anyone on her phone, or if she was just releasing the demons.
    shari: it’s rough in train station bathrooms.
    nanuk: i’m as cool as a cucumber. it’s the lady in the stall next to me who needed some herbal tea. :)

  5. Fiorello La Guardia Says:

    This is just another reason to buy that hobby farm and work from home!

  6. churlita Says:

    Yeah. Sorry. That was a really bad day for me. In my defense, that b*#@% really did deserve a hundred motherfu@#in’ bullets in her motherfu@#in’ ass.

  7. Nat Says:

    are you sure samuel l jackson wasn’t in the ladies room?

  8. serap Says:

    Oh dear… I hope you got out of there quickly Jen, otherwise you’ll end up like the little Amish boy in the film Witness… although having Harrison Ford as your personal bodyguard wouldn’t be that bad I guess.

  9. Courtney Says:

    I think I would have been making a quick exit out of that particular bathroom.

  10. Jessica Says:

    You overhead me saying all that, Jen? Lordy, why didn’t you say “hi”?

  11. Jessica Says:

    Err, I meant “overheaRd” – – also, this reminds me of a recent trip I took where I overheard a girl in a bathroom stall talking to her (ex?) boyfriend:
    “I’m through with you, do you understand? I f’ing hate you, you piece of sh*t! I hope you die and rot in hell, you f’ing bastard!! Oh, yeah?! YEAH?? Well, the next time you go to jail, find someone else to bail your sorry a$$ out!!!”
    When I returned to the table and reported this to my traveling companion, she sighed, smiled and said, “She’s totally going to marry him.”

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