“You’re terrible,” he says.
“You’re terrible,” he repeats.
“You’re terrible,” he repeats with additional emphasis.
“What?” I reply.
“You’re terrible,” he says.
“He’s terrible,” he says to a man standing between us.
“What?” the man between us asks, directing the question at me.
“Is he joking or being genuinely hostile?” I ask, directing the question at the man between us.
“Are you joking?” the man between us asks the man.
“He’s terrible,” the man responds, “He has a show on Vice, it’s terrible, everyone agrees.”
“You have a show?” the man between us asks cheerfully.
“He has a show about drugs,” the man answers for me.
“Is it a video show?” the man between us asks with genuine interest.
“Yes,” I respond.
“I used to work for Vice with Timmy Barber eating cockroaches,” the man who thinks I'm terrible says, I believe.
“Your terrible,” he says.
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