“You are the product of five billion years of evolution. Fucking act like it.” -Correcthorse121
“Yer the product of five billion years of evolution,” the gray-skinned, dome-headed alien said, staggering drunkenly as he pointed my bottle of Jack Daniels (now mostly empty) at me. “Fuckin’… act like it.”
“Gettin’ reeeaaaal into character, man,” I drawled, trying to take my booze back. The guy in the alien costume held me off with his long, three-fingered hand, tossing his head back to empty the bottle.
“I mean, lookitchu,” he said, falling on his rear and trying to make it look like he had meant to do that. “I flew ‘cross fifteen gazillion – hic – miles of empty fuckin’ space to meet you ffffuckers, and who’s the first guy I meet?” He bit the neck of the bottle off, chewing it like it was hard candy instead of glass. “Some fuckin’ sad sack sittin’ inna middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere feelin’ – hic – sorry for hisself.”