Facing Fear

I don’t have a lot of fear. A long time ago, I figured out that these people were never going to get off of me because of their fear that I would never stop suing them for false conviction. Soon as I figured this out, I had no fear. I stopped kissing the boot that kicked me, grew some teeth, and started gnawing on the state’s ass ever since. I chase those sonza-bitches under the porch, down the street, and through the woods. There’s no place that they can hide from me, and they can’t get away. I lam-bast their stupid ideas, I shame their greed, I uncover their tricks, and I even get some of them fired. I make them stop harassing us. I make them provide conveniences like chair, trash baskets, and shelves. I make them lower their prices. I made them sell us antiseptic mouthwash. I made them quit screwing us out of aspirin and making us accept that liver toxin, Tylenol, instead. I made them quit price-gouging us so much on salt and envelopes. I made them stop selling us defective pens. You might say that I make them face their fear, which is me.