You are the clown who thought it would be cool to smash in my driver's-side mirror with your fist on a crisp November evening. Thanks for that, by the way. But the best part was that in all your Hulk rage, you neglected one small detail: You left a chunk of your knuckle on my mirror. So next time, oh, genius one, clean up your tracks. DNA costs me way too much to find you, but karma will serve me best in the end.
