You are in deep shit, mister.

Oh, for Christ's Sake, were you not paying attention when I just gave you the end-all mother-of-grace berating of your lifetime? Is the shit in your ear canal so thick that sound travels into your ear, gets stuck, and says "man, look at how thick this shit is; we're never going to get through"?

This is intolerable. I'm wasting my valuable time trying to make you understand, and you're giving me attitude. Well mister, your lollygagging, I-don't-have-to-listen-to-the-man days are almost over, because I'm going to make sure that the shit hits the preverbial fan. You'll be cleaning that shit up with a preverbial mop and bucket.

I don't know why you punks even try to dish this shit to me. I'm a hardass. I'll eat coal and crap diamonds. But when management gets my report on your behaviour, you'll be eating shit-salad with a tangy vinaigrette dressing.

Smartening-up class begins right now, and I'm teaching.

You might as well tell your buddies to start wearing cover-alls, because the shit is going to fly everwhere. If your shit-clogged ears aren't understanding that, you'd better find a cotton swab. I'm only going to say it once.

You know, it's smart-asses like you that make this place harder for the others. It only takes one piece of shit to spoil the soup. It's best that you write that down, because I'm not going to tell you again. Dismissed.