I like to think of myself as the sweetest guy around, but I am often amazed at how little it takes to rile me up. And for real. A teenage kid on a loud motorcycle farting his way twice past the restaurant in which I am having a quiet lunch is enough to get me going. I can already see my sweet self, gun in hand, aiming. Yes, I can already see the fucking kid in a puddle of blood and oil, spinning. If this is only me, the sweetest guy around, how much less would it take to rile up any one of these ugly bastards sitting in the restaurant next to me?!