To the conservative suburban woman behind me in line at Subway yesterday:
I’m sorry I kept referring to Fred’s liberally mayo’d oven-roasted chicken sub as a “bukkake special”. I’m sorry that you kept demanding that your teenage son explain why he was laughing so hard. I’m extra sorry that this turn of events led you to practically yelling “ETHAN, WHAT IS A BUKKAKE SPECIAL?” in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
The year is 2034. QT lies on his death bed. As he lies there in his last breath he whispers: "Wow, that actually killed me."