Oh No, That's Fine. I don't Mind At All If You Use The Elevator To Go To The Second Floor. I Mean, You Are A 500-Pound Quadriplegic With An Irrational Fear Of Stairwells
by: Bobby Craig*
Oh no, that's fine. I don't mind at all if you use the elevator to go to the second floor. I mean, you are a 500-pound quadriplegic with an irrational fear of stairwells.
Wait a minute, no you're not. You're a spoiled college sophomore who's never had to walk up more than three stairs in his entire life, and now you're going to waste my time—and the time of every other person in this elevator—by refusing to drag your lazy ass up one god damn flight of stairs.
I hate you. I despise everything about you. I sometimes wish that the sensors which prevent the elevator doors from closing on people would fail just as you are about to get on so that your body is crushed between the doors and ripped into pieces as the elevator begins to move up to the second floor—your floor: the floor which should be inaccessible from the elevator for people like you, but because of a design flaw in the building allows scumbags such as yourself to avoid a dozen stairs and ride peacefully to the second floor.
You joke. You say that you take the elevator because you are lazy. You are tired. You just had a tough class.
I joke. I say that I am going to stab you multiple times and then shoot you with a gun. A gun that has lots of bullets in it—big, painful bullets.
You are not only unfit to ride this elevator with me; you are unfit to reside on this same planet as me. You are unfit to exist in a universe in which I also exist. . . .
What's that you say? The elevator is not going to be operational this afternoon?
How the hell am I going to get back to the third floor?
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*And by Bobby Craig, we mean Daniel Riehs.
Why is this footnote here?
