<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">As she drove he muttered under his breath,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "stupid fucking cunt, cold turkey, dumb son if a bitching cunt nugget, stick my cane right up her ass."</span> He was careful not to say it loud enough, and she had been speaking at the time which helped a lot anyways. Something about how her father had respected him or some shit like that. Upon hearing of their destination he groaned, organic food was a fancy term people liked to throw out, and her whole fresh air comment made him want to puke.<br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I get plenty of fresh air every day, I live on a lake you know, I sit out on the back deck of it every morning, early as fuck, drinking beer, minding my own business, and I love it that way."</span> That much was true, he did like it that way, his solitary freedom, where he didn't have to worry about anything and she had to fuck it up. He saw the market off in the horizon. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"By the way, one other thing, wine is a no go, that grape powered frilly shit is for prissy prisses and stuck up fucks. Besides if you don't want me to drink then it is only fair you don't get to either."</span><br/>
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He didn't know how well that would fly. She wasn't the one with a drinking problem as far as he knew. Still he wanted to try and throw his weight around, see what he could and could not get away with. It was unusual for people to tell him what to do in his own house, but here she was, not quite in his house, but still in his life and telling him he needed to change. Mark didn't want to get into too much of an argument though and just put his hands up as if he surrendered.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b35900"> </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"But whatever though, do what you want."</span></span>