Sorry

The first, second and even third time you kick my bad leg you bumbling behemoth, I will accept sorry. I know you have a lot of luggage and this may or may not be the first time you have ever worn a backpack. But the fifth time, my response is going to be, "I really need you to not do that again."

The sixth time, my saying, "As long as you kick my left leg, you and me will be okay," was my subtle way of telling you that if you continue to disregard the space around you I will forget my leg pain long enough to hurt you. By the time we reach your stop I will ensure you need both a plastic surgeon and a dentist. I've a very long fuse but your inability to know where my non-moving feet are is astonishing to me.

Sorry doesn't cut it, 'bro.' 

You know for whom I feel sorry? Your girlfriend, or wife, or parents, or children, or friends, or anyone whose life you have inflicted your presence on.

Grrr bark bark grrr