Yes, I see you there. You, you’re in my seat. I’ve sat there all semester and now you take a load off in my goddamn seat, you prick? No, not this. Is there no sanctity left in this world, that a man is left to wonder where he must sit? You are disturbing the natural order of the world and all the rules of common decency by placing your lardy, lumpy ass in my seat.
I heard you guffaw between bites of your bagel that you had to change seats because there was a girl who reeked of alcohol and cheap marijuana. Well, you know who sat next to that girl instead of you? ME. I sat next to her while you basked in the lovely aura that surrounds MY seat. Even worse, the beach-scented air freshener I bring to class everyday didn’t even help. Also, I can’t see shit from your wobbly-ass chair, and I messed up my neck craning to see the board.
You think that switching seats is no big deal? Fuck you. Stealing a guy’s seat after two months of class is nothing short of madness.
If you don’t think I spent weeks planning on where to sit in that class, you are sorely mistaken. I spent hours in the classroom in the wee hours of the night performing hundreds of tests to determine where the best possible place was to sit. Calculating the draft, available light, and the amount of wobble for every single seat, I finally found the perfect seat in the classroom, cementing it as my own. But then you came into this peaceful place and made it into a place of suffering.
I don’t know you well. I don’t know if anyone cares about you, but judging by the way your sociopathic behavior, I’m guessing everyone you’ve ever loved has left you or killed themselves. I won’t remain bitter for too long, because I know that this indiscretion will be met with swift and just karma. But until that day comes, I wish a plague unto your house, and that all your daughters are whores and all of your sons infertile, and that your wife leaves you for another.