This one time my friend and I were sitting in his car outside Pizza Hut or whatever, and he was listening to DMX or some :skull::skull::skull::skull: like that on his tape player. He was smurfing around with the bass boost when he saw two Asians (we assumed they were Asians, though they could have been skinny, sick Polynesians) walking into Pizza Hut & wearing tight clothing. I don’t know why, but he got pretty mad at this. He started suggesting all these absurd and fiendish acts, like he wanted to break their necks or this or that. I thought he was joking so I went along, until he started to get all excited and he grabbed me and said: “Yeah! It’ll be like a tag-team: Rap and rock versus punk and emo! Whoo!”
 I guessed, at that moment, that he was on some kind of drug. I mean, even if I did let him designate my alignment into rocker without my saying so, how long would that last? How long before it became Rap versus Punk, emo, and rock? Surely this man horned out beyond redemption, so pumped up on DMX—how could I trust that he wouldn’t get the thirst to destroy more?
 I decided I had to put a stop to him, before he could put this plan into action, so I slit his throat with a slice of pizza. He fell backward, as if to die—and I do not doubt that we both thought he actually was dying for a few minutes—but once he realized that :skull::skull::skull::skull: wasn’t that bad, he pulled himself back together, and slapped me for wasting a slice of pizza and dirtying his throat. Well, a slap in the back of the head, as opposed to a hellish beating by a fully-charged, brutish thug?
I think I got lucky. Fortunately, the two Asian (or smurfing what, OK?) kids had managed to escape, and my friend had pretty much forgotten all about them. Or whatever.
To this day, I must be very careful when using those four cursed words around my friend.