I Am A Pacifist. Really

I really am. I know that "Get In the Ring" gets my heart pumping but I really don’t believe in fighting, and I don’t believe in violence. That said however, I am sitting in my apartment, it is 12:58 in the morning and I am a fucking prisoner. There is a liquor store across the street from where I live and on the first Saturday of every month the cocksucker that owns the store has a “party”. This means that he has a band, or should I just say a group of no talent mother fuckers, that play bachata and merenque tipico. The speakers are at a volume suitable for a stadium with 50,000 people in it. For those of you who don’t know, meringue tipico means music for imbeciles. It is usually the same two or three chords played over and over again, ad nauseum, with lyrics to match. For example, the lyrics might be, I’m hungry and I want to eat, I’m hungry and I want to eat, I’m hungry and I want to eat, I’m hungry and I want to eat. The lyrics to all these songs really should be, “I’m an idiot and I can’t remember more than 6 words to a song, I’m an idiot and I can’t remember more than 6 words to a song”, but they try as best they can to disguise their stupidity. This “party”, which is attended by a hugely male clientele, starts at about 8:30 and continues until 2:00 in the morning. The crowd starts to dissapate after 12:30 but the volume stays up. Did I mention how fucking loud it is. It is very fucking loud. The musicians are awful and their voices are worse. However, it is a party, so party on dude. I don’t know how I have thus far resisted the temptation, but I know, or more accurately I fear, that in the not too distant future, I will drive my car at full speed into the crowd that attends this wonderful fiesta. I will, of course, only be willing to do this if I can be sure that I kill the nasty motherfucker who owns the store.