The Junior Mint Box

It all happened so fast, I did not know what had become of me. I had awoken with a pain of a thousand knives piercing my skull as if some grand piano had been placed upon my cranium. Although at first I thought last night was some sort of wild dream, the pain and blood smeared all over my face quickly reminded me the events last night did, in fact, take place. The night started innocently enough. I had gone to a friends house to play some rollicking board games, maybe discuss and compare stamp collections; all the occasional normality's of what one might encounter at a shindig in the city. During this particular board game (Sorry!), my pawn had been knocked back to start. I had gotten furious at my fellow competitors, as this was the 7th or 8th time this had happened. "SORRY MY ASS! YOU WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN YOU COWARDS! THIS IS WHAT I'M SORRY FOR!" and I threw the board game across the room and exited the house with anger. It was on my way back to my own residence that I was in the process of finishing my box of Junior Mints. "Man, these Junior Mints are anything but Junior!" I thought to myself. "But I can understand why they wouldn't call them Senior Mints... Old people love licorice. I hate licorice" I said. The emptiness of the box crept up on me, and I was devastated when I arrived at the last piece. "SHUCKLESBY!" I proclaimed. I then looked around for the closest area of garbage disposal, and there it was. I threw it and COULD HAVE SWORN it landed in the can of trash. I then proceeded to walk to my destination. Out of nowhere, this man comes out of the shadows of an alley and stops me in my tracks. He startled me. "YOU STARTLED ME!" I said with great vigor. The man had jet black hair, which was long enough for a pony tail, which is exactly what he was wearing. His jacket was one a biker would wear - black, leather, and stenched in stink. His pants matched the jacket to the t, and the jacket had a badge on it that looked as though he were some sort of Police Officer. This man was an intimidating presence to say the least. He began to speak. "Do you realize what you just did?" I thought for a second. I did absolutely nothing wrong. "I didn't know walking was a crime, jerk!" then I tried to get around him. Big mistake. "You littered. You too much of a hot shot to throw away trash?" I then realized who this man looked like. "Hey man you look exactly like Steven Seagal! Weird... well, I'll see ya!" I then tried running away, but this Seagal look alike said "Not so fast!" and threw me to the pavement. "I take out trash bags like you every day." After he said this, I received a shift kick to my face. "Ow man that kind of smarts. What the hell is your problem?" He replied, "My problem is your lack of care for the environment. I've had enough of your type, so you know what I'm doing?" he paused. I had no choice but to answer his rhetorical question. "What's that?" I said with hesitation. "I'm taking out the trash!" he then proceeded to throw my head into the brick wall, smash countless glass bottles over my head (which I thought was a little hypocritical), and generally just beat the living hell out of me. Whether I did actually throw out that Junior Mint box will forever remain a mystery. Steven Seagal is the most intimidating environmentalist I have ever met.