To the conservative suburban woman behind me in line at Subway yesterday:
I’m sorry I kept referring to Fred’s liberally mayo’d oven-roasted chicken sub as a “bukkake special”. I’m sorry that you kept demanding that your teenage son explain why he was laughing so hard. I’m extra sorry that this turn of events led you to practically yelling “ETHAN, WHAT IS A BUKKAKE SPECIAL?” in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
𝓜𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓘 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓶𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓵𝔂. 𝓘𝓽 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓵𝓮𝓯𝓽