AcmeShorts

That McGinty sure gets a rise outta me! "Hey, McGinty. You fling me the hairy eyeball one more time and so help me I'll cripple ya. I'll smash you up. I'll sell your balls to the dingbat who lives in my mudda's basement. I'll smack ya fuckin' head for ya." It was a fuckin' no braina McGinty'd do sumpin', so I just waited. "Well, ya fuck, ya?" I fingered the fuckin' baloney sengwidge in my lunch pail. Meanwhiles, McGinty was sittin' side-down on the seat of his brammel, cockin' a pigeon's neck my way and dragged a greasy finga across the stubbly length of his jawbone. The banjo playa-looking motherfucka. I gave the fuck a prompt by jutting my chest and sort a letting everyting just pump in his direction, kinda as if to say, like, "WHAT?" That snickering shit. He just sat there grinnin' like a fiend, fuckin' nudgin' his lackey fucks a his O'Malley and Shaunessey. Those two fuckin' tahds had the intelligent quotient of an Italian. And like FAHHHHHK YOOOUUUU he goes, all slow. "That does it!" And like a fuckin' puma I go for the socket wrench! And then the fuckin' door to the lunch locker opens and it's the god damned foreman. "Da fuck?" he goes. And so we all just shut up. And he looks at me real hard, the foreman does, and repeats his self. "Da fuck, Moynihan?" And over his shoulder if fuckin' tard McGinty isn't grinnin' the grin and mouthing it all silent-like: FAHHHHHK YOOOUUUU... God! That McGinty sure gets a rise outta me!