Chicago, IL – The
abused scooter corpses strewn about sidewalks and storefronts are, culturally,
what this city needed. And unwillingly falling into the throes of a passionate,
steel on steel, scooter orgy coming out of your apartment is a pleasant way to
start any morning.
But not everything is as chill as the electric scooter riding, masturbating idiot tongue punching the shit out of a JUUL his way to buy a new outfit from Trunk Club.
Razor scooter riders everywhere are triggered by the arrival of these fancy new scooters. The sniveling losers, who routinely cry themselves to sleep at night in exchange for a couple extra seconds saved on their morning commute, argue that electric propulsion on a scooter is a complete betrayal of traditionalist scooting.
“You think the guy who invented the Razor scooter would want a bunch of posing little cucks ruining the legacy of one of the most iconic modes of transportation ever created? Scooting is a privilege not a right,” said Alphonso Knudson, diligently folding his Razor as he returned home to a wife who despises him.
The duster fueled rant of scooter elitism continued, as Knudson crapped his pants and promptly educated a group of horrified onlookers into the sanctity of scooter virginity and devotion.
“I would kill myself before I let another man ride my Razor, hand of God, kill myself,” continued Knudson coveting the slight frame of his scooter.