Consultation 150.
Consultation 150.
“God, I got complaints.”
I don’t give a fuck.
“Oh? And what are your complaints, child?”
“I don’t like how ya talkin ta me.”
Bitch, what?
“There’s something wrong with how I’m talking to you?”
“Yeah, it ain’t ta ma likin.”
Just because you don’t like it, you think I should change how I speak just to fit you and you alone? Are you retarded or something? Do you seriously think the world revolves around you? Why don’t you grow the fuck up?
Naturally, I couldn’t go and outright say that as a professional, so I had to ignore it. Haaaah. This she bitch was a valued client after all.
“I see. Then how about I tell you to go fuck yourself and jump off a bridge? Is that more to your liking, you little mortal shit for brains? Or maybe ‘creepy masochistic pig’ would be better suited to you?”
“Ah~ das more like it god~ now ya talkin ma language.”
Gross.
I raised one hand, squeezed my forehead, and clarified, “So… did you really book a consultation with me just to complain about how I talk?”
“Yeah purty much.”
Must... restrain... desire to kill this hoe.
“But I got more complaints for ya actualay.”
“Oh, do go on. I’d LOVE to hear all about them.”
“What’s with all da holes in ya office flo? Are ya in povertay ta tha point ya can’t fill em up?”
“Oh, do these look like holes to you? Well, I guess to a dumbass short sighted mortal who can’t see everything us gods can see they might look like holes to you.”
It was a rather roundabout way of telling her she’d been dropped on her head as a child and developed brain damage early in life. There weren’t really any holes in the ground as she claimed, her eyes were merely there for show, they were decorations that didn’t function properly.
“Ya sayin they ain’t holes? Are ya retarded or jus brain dead, god? A hole is a hole. Dere aw awbiously stupid holes in da ground ere ta be filled.”
If she screams holes loud and long enough, does she really think she’s going to will them into existence? I really don’t have any obligation to bother with correcting her misunderstanding though.
“Right, right. They’re holes, whatever makes you feel better about your pathetic mortal life and let’s you sleep at night. Was that all you had to complain about?” Sometime ignorance was bliss. If I let her keep believing whatever garbage it is she wants to believe, she’ll go away faster and I won’t have to deal with her again in the future.
“Ya, actualay, now dat ya mention it, I got more ta complain abou.”
“What now, dumbass?” Are you kidding me? There’s more?
“Ain’t ya too much of a pushover?”
“Ain’t ya too much of a pretentious illiterate dumbfuck with less than two brain cells who can’t read more than one step into something?”
“I can read pleny. I’ma supa liter-ate.”
“Oh, are you now?” You couldn’t even say literate properly if you tried.
“Ya, I’m like supa amazin. I know everythin. I know even more about ya than ya know abou ya self or anytin ya’ve eva done god. I’m da best!”
I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother to respond. There was no point wasting my breath talking to an idiot of this caliber. Just let her run her mouth until she’s tired and leaves.
Really though, were there mortals this stupid? Or was she trying to troll a god? Haaaah. If she wasn’t trolling, this human was truly god’s mistake. What pitiful mother gave birth to this thing anyway? Can we give her poor mother a refund and issue her a new child who isn’t as intellectually challenged as this one?