My Bloody Faggot

It's not my fault if Sara fell in love with me.
It's not my fault if Sara fell in love with me.
It's not my fault if Sara fell in love with me.

Oh my guy.

Sean Hunt kept writing on his pink zebra-printed notebook, while his quarter-left cranberry milkshake standing next to his Bottega turtle-skin clutch bag on the righter side.
Sitting alone on a coffee shop, is Sean's full-time job, and selling fake branded bags, is his part-time job.

Shit, here comes Sara again popping inside my rotten mind, he spoke to himself in terrible whisper.
There was this one lady, very highly-educated, with highly-maintenanced red hair, and oh my guy I always adore her Prada sunglasses.
Anyways, she's my very loyal customer. She kept buying my bags without her Phd brain. Oh my guy please she spent most of her money...to me! Exactly to my fake branded bags, whether she will wear or give them to some third brand maniacs I don't so care.
Then then then... she confessed. She liked me, she's in love with me. Oh my birdie guy!

"Sara," Sean told her. Yes this lady was the one named Sara. "Sara oh my dear Sara."
"Stop calling me OH MY DEAR SHIT just like you call every one of your customers! Sean, I'm sorry... but I don't like those ladies keep buying your bags. I'm jealous. Sean, I'm in love with you."
Sean laughed so hard, almost cried. "Sara, you know I'm a gay."
"Oh my bloody faggot, Sean. I know that and I don't know why but I'm still in love with you. Can't you help me out, Sean?"
"Sara, maybe you should stop buying my bags and move on."
"Damn of your bags, Sean, I don't care, I buy it just to meet you, and even I never take it out from my baggage."
(So she didn't even give it to the third brand maniacs)

In no longer than twenty seconds, Sara's face now was full of cranberry milkshake. Her red hair was blended into purplish color.
Her red lips were lost in sight.
And thank god she wasn't wearing her Prada sunglasses today.

Sean put his glass of cranberry milkshake back onto the table, with his satisfaction smile, and random feelings.

Sara was screaming pretty hysterically. "You are bloody faggot!" And she gone.

Sean only shook his head. "Oh my guy. Women nowadays."
Then he took out his zebra-printed notebook from his Zegna leather office bag and started writing.

It's not my fault if Sara fell in love with me.
It's not my fault if Sara fell in love with me.
It's not my fault if Sara fell in love with me.