Hey you. I don't like you.

Hey you.

You. I don't like you.
You asked for my father's help.
You came to my house, passed me a bundle of handwritten papers.
And gawd aren't your handwriting so bad.
It's even worse than mine!
What? You expect my father to type it for you?
Since when did he became your clerk?
This is not the 90's where only a bunch of people own computers.
Even then, I would expect that you make an effort to find one, and fix your own mess.

You. I don't like you.
My father is trying to save your ass.
And what are you doing?
Sitting back and relax.
My father is so busy he's losing his sleep.
And you didn't even call to ask about him, and what you should be doing, how he's progressing.
Who the heck do you think you are?
You think those bundle of papers is all you should do?
Are you mental?

Hey you. I don't like you.
Better not appear in front of me.
Or bitch slap it is.