She follows me everywhere I go, peering at me from above her can of Diet Pepsi. She pretends to look away when I turn to face her, but I know that as soon as I turn away, she'll be watching me again. Watching . . . always watching! The woman is a menace!
Now that's the sort of threat I could live with.
You laugh now, B^4, but it won't sound so funny when I'm found dead in a pool of my own blood with that straw protruding from my chest.
She'd probably exsanguinate you with that straw and give you a Diet Pepsi transfusion, making you an unholy half-cola/half-human abomination.
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