P.O. Terrorist

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5 p.m.: We were leaving the Mission Viejo post office when you came running in, with both arms stacked high with stuff to mail. Trouble was it was closed, and the post-office employee had already locked you out. What ensued was a pathetic scene that would have earned most children a good ear boxing for the same behavior. At first you howled in disbelief about the door being closed—but you quickly pounced on the employee behind the door, who was only trying to let those of us already finished with our business leave. "Please, man, pleeeeeeease," you begged. "I'LL GET FIRED IF THESE DON'T GET OUT!" Nope, said the employee. It was 5 o'clock—whatever it was, you would have to bring it back tomorrow. Seeing that you had not gained any ground, you pulled out all the stops and resorted to more begging and even threats: "C'mon man, pleeeeeease! Do the right thing," and my personal favorite, "C'mon, do the American thing."

Sir, what the fuck were you talking about? Is catering to assholes the "American thing"?

Still no luck, and then you yelled, "This is why people blow up post offices!" Finally the employee let you in—probably out of fear for his life—but he shouldn't have. You acted like a complete jerk. I'm pretty sure the part about getting fired was a lie, but even if it wasn't, you surely would have deserved it.