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I Ain’t No Punk B1tch…Don’t Nobody Tell Me To Follow Them To My Seat At No Football Game

January 25, 2011

I was looking for my seat at the football game when the Usher looked at my ticket, “This way, Sir.  Please follow me.”

That kind’a pi$$ed me off.

“What’chu say, man?”

“This way, please follow me.”

I proceeded to snatch back my ticket and followed the Coca Cola Man instead.

The Coca Cola Man hiked up and down all these aisles.  I ended up buying all his sodas just to quench my thirst from following the motherfvcker.

The Beer Man headed past in the opposite direction.  I decided to follow him because I’m trying to stop sippin’ so I knew I wouldn’t buy any of his beers.

I was trailing right behind, glancing at the game, when the home team fumbled.

“Fvck!  Hey, Beer Man!” A fan shouted.

The Beer Man hit the brakes…I slammed into him and ‘caused him to fumble his beers.

That fumble cost me 72 dollars and a buzz.

An elderly Hot Dog Man hobbled past and I followed him because I wasn’t hungry so I knew I wouldn’t spend anymore money.

Plus he walked sloooow, got easily winded…my type of vendor to follow.

Homeboy made a left, a right, walked into this room and out the back door…I followed…to outside the stadium!

“Why are we outside?” I asked.

“Because you followed me.  Plus that was my last day — I just retired.”

My jaw dropped, “How do I get back in the game?”

“You don’t.  They don’t allow re-entries.”

Don’t nobody tell me to follow them to my seat at no football game.

I ain’t no punk b1tch.


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