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Fucking fuckers

  • me:

    (out shopping, looking all fly with my Marvel comics tote bag featuring several characters)

  • dude:

    nice bag.

  • me:

    thanks. (keeps on shopping)

  • dude:

    do you even know who all those characters are?

  • me:

    uh... yeah?

  • dude:

    ok then, who's that guy? (points at a character on the bag)

  • me:

  • me:

    wait, are you asking me to prove that I'm enough of a fan enough to carry this bag?

  • dude:

    (smirks) that's what I thought. He's called the Silver Surfer. I bet you don't even know his real name.

  • me:

    does it matter? (starts to edge away before I start punching throats)

  • dude:

    psh, you're not a real fan.

  • me:

  • me:

    (slowly unsheathing my Wolverine claws)

  • me:

    how many pairs of chromosomes do humans contain in their cells?

  • dude:

    uh... what?

  • me:

    explain the function of cellular mitosis?

  • dude:

  • me:

    what is the purpose of myelin sheath with regards to the formation of new neural pathways?

  • dude:

    what are you even talking about?

  • me:

    oh, well it seemed that you were implying that if I don't know as much about the Marvel universe as you do, then I can't possibly be considered a real fan. This is me implying that because you don't know as much about the human body as I do, you can't possibly be considered a real human being.

  • dude:

  • dude:

  • dude:

  • dude:

    Um, I... wow. You're right. Have a nice day. (starts to shuffle away)

  • me:

    his name is Norrin Radd.

  • dude:

    (looks extremely embarrassed)

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