212: People Must Die

Because I am a horrid, horrid man, I tend to wish (and I wish upon a star real hard, cuz those are the ones that really count); yes, I wish certain subway commuters gruesome death. At the very least.

To the following people:

• If you are someone, when riding the escalator, who won't move to one side to let others pass by, I wish you dead.
• If you are someone who pushes their way into a subway car when there are still passengers trying to get out, I wish you die a painful death.
• If you are an old lady with an excruciatingly sharp elbow, die! Just die already. Please! You're taking up valuable space and resources.
  
• If you are fat and take up 2.5 seats during the morning rush hour when every subway car is like a sardine can, go to the gym, go on a diet, lose that weight, or else, I have to wish you dead, dead, dead.
  
• And finally, if you are someone who clips their nails inside a subway car, which by the way isn't your fucking personal space, I wish for all the nail clippings in the world to be gathered, so that those human wastes will be forced fed to you spoonful by spoonful, and if you happen to vomit the acid treated, yet protein rich bolus (mmm, delicious) out, then that, too, will be forced fed to you. I wish you all that. And I wish you die a painful, slow death. Then I want you resuscitated and revived, so that you can be fed that nurishing goodness again, until you die a painful, slow death again. And we can repeat ad infinitum.