Fucking Chiefs fans
I had to drive back home to the Ozarks last week to visit my ailing grandmother. On the way I stopped at a Waffle House because, you know trips are long and they don't really have those bastions of southern hospitality back this way except maybe a couple of crappy ones. Anyways, as I sat down my thoughts were drowned out by the rumble of some hick and his truck. He revved that loud piece of shit hard as he parked, and that is when I saw it. Chiefs Kingdom. I fucking knew it. The man hopped out of his truck and then assisted his fat sow of a breeder wife along with his three inbred children into the Waffle house, sporting his Chiefs hat, his Chiefs shirt, with his disgusting Chiefs kids and his fourth trimester Chiefs wife.
God I fucking hate the Chiefs.
Then he, and his snotty grubbing brood sat down in the booth behind me, no doubt because he knew I was a Broncos fan. As he sat his rotund rollie pollie wife down and his moon-faced genetic aberration children he nodded to me and said "Nice day!" That fucking son of a bitch. That inbred fuck. That simpering simian who's family tree was as straight as a fucking ruler. His Travis Kelce loving, Patrick Mahomes turgid dick sucking, shit-dynasty-eating grin. I stood up and I decked him.
When I woke up in the hospital after, I found myself handcuffed to the bed, and my butthole hurt.
Fucking Chiefs fans, man.