You were the meathead with the big metal dick hanging out of your mouth, blowing a cloud of vapor as big as your lungs could muster. I was trying to enjoy my coffee when another patron asked you if you could move to a table away from the door. You politely told him that he could suck your dick if he didn't like it and that you were well within your legal right to smoke your large, phallic e-cig anywhere you “goddamn please.” When he walked away, clearly upset that you might pummel him instead of kindly obliging the request, you muttered, “Fag” under your breath. I'm not one to call names, but your blueberry cheesecake e-cig “juice” and your vanilla latte with extra foam might be speaking louder than your steroid-fueled attitude.
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