To the Fuckhead Who Threw a Fucking McDonald's Cup on Our Lawn

Hey, fuckhead who threw a fucking McDonald's cup from his car window onto our lawn: I curse you. I curse you with the foulest most evil curse I can muster. I just wanted you to know: I wish only bad things for you until the day you die. Hellhounds on your trail!

What the fuck is your problem anyway, dude? I didn't get a good look at you, but you were definitely a dude, and I certainly saw your fucking nasty, greasy, hairy arm pitch that bloody 200 ounce McDonald's cup into the very lawn where I was breaking my goddam back doing yardwork. Of course it was a McDonald's cup, because you don't respect yourself enough to not eat that godawful, inedible, health-ruining shit. You slam the deathburger and fries, swill your fucking cola, and then pitch the plastic (reusable, by the way) cup into the nearest waste receptacle you can find: my lawn. Only you know what, fucker? My lawn is NOT A FUCKING WASTE RECEPTACLE. Did you happen to notice that fact? Did you notice that, before the unwelcome arrival of your projectile, there was not one other piece of trash on the lawn? I'm guessing you did, didn't care, and threw the cup anyway, and for that I say: a pox upon you, scum of the earth. May your days be filled with misery and woe, from now into perpetuity.

Go to McDonald's if you must. Binge on their patented variety of poisonous nonfood all you want. Pollute yourself with that unspeakable affront to your one and only body. All I ask is that you keep your fucking cup away from my lawn, you worthless sack of fucking shit, or feel the wrath of my curse sevenfold (with apologies to Bob Dylan):

That one doctor will not save you,
That two healers will not heal you,
That three eyes will not see you.

That four ears will not hear you,
That five walls will not hide you,
That six diggers will not bury you
And that seven deaths shall never kill you.

nwb