You’re a genetic abomination who should have been cleansed from the pool long ago. It’s not just your appearance; you could turn into Ryan Gosling for a night and you still wouldn’t get laid. You’ll always be too weak and timid, a whimpering, blubbering mess. I can’t believe the human race still produces people as disparate as you and I. Can you even imagine trying to take Me home? You’d be like a rat pursuing a lioness. Face facts, loser. You aren’t cut out for the wild. Like all cockroaches, you belong crushed under my foot figuratively and literally, with Me crushing you.