Dear man who rides a unicycle all over my neighborhood,
Stop. I may just be envious of your masterful balance but, you’re starting to get under my skin. Why are you doing this to me?
What is so wrong with things having handles? Do the doors of your house just fling open? Can you even access your drawers? Do all your spoons just look like mini-plates?
I really can’t take it, man. What the hell do you have against using your arms? Do you just thrust your groin at people to say “hello”?
Where did you pick this habit up? College? Oh I’m sorry I mean university?
You and your unicycle. I’m losing my mind a little more each day, everyday, with this freaking mythical bike.
I’m sweating right now as I type! This has got to stop, immediately. And I don’t think you have hand brakes, so that’s bad news.
One morning soon, when you wake up in your unitard (or onesie), you’re gonna walk outside to find your unicycle riveted to the hood of a car. And it’s going to be a station wagon, with four wheels.
Sadly, your neighbor is not alone in his ridiculous hobby. Please to enjoy:
Oh Nancy. I can always count on you to have your finger on the pulse of the ever-mounting Brooklyn preposterous.