My hair is really messy today. I didn’t really touch it this morning, and now it looks unkempt.
What are you gonna do about it?
What’s your problem? You want to fight me, boy? You want to fight me, don’t you? You act real big when you’re reading this blog and laughing at my hair, but you aren’t so big now, are you?
Of course you meant to hurt my feelings! Did you think you could mock and ridicule my messy hair and I wouldn’t care? I’m a red-blooded man! I have a soul! Now I’m going to fight you and prove my worth to all who watch us scrappin’.
Don’t try to shake my hand! You can’t just disrespect me and then expect me to give you the ol’ handshake-hug combo! Rest assured, our next physical contact will be when my substantial fist collides with your right temple.
No, as a matter of fact, I’m NOT interested in seeing a counseling pastor to help us resolve our differences! Unless that pastor is willing to calmly officiate our savage street fight, there is nothing such a man could do for you and I. Our destiny is set: we will rumble after school in the far southwest corner of the student parking lot.
Don’t think that you can avoid a tussle by not showing up, either. I’ve already instructed an aide to attach a GPS tracking system to the underbelly of your vehicle. I will follow you to your home, to a remote cabin, and to the isolated mountain villages of western China if need be. Truly I say to you – I will fight you, bitch. Your mouth will bleed, and your humiliation will be complete when the popular 11th grade girls laugh at you.
See you after school.