Can I Help You Dickhead?

The office building I work in is having repairs and remodeling work done on the exterior. As such, there are several men working at any given time. I have nothing mean to say about manual laborers, as I was one for a few years. Having said that, there is one guy working here who is really creeping the fuck out of me. My desk faces away from the window in my office, so I am not always looking outside, but on several occasions I have turned around to see this lazy-eyed bastard staring in at me with a shit-eating grin on his face. What in the entire motherfucking world could be so goddamn funny? Am I growing a dick out of the back of my head that I am not aware of? Did he just remember a funny joke? I don't get it, but at least four times today I have turned around and Cockbite McOveralls is standing there on his scaffolding laughing like a retard on an ether binge. He must be inhaling fumes from the paint he is applying to the side of the building. There is no other explanation. There is nothing remotely amusing about my office. There are four white walls, a desk, and my laptop. Oh, and my framed picture of Milwaukee County Stadium. That must be it. This floppy cock must be laughing at a black and white picture of a now-defunct stadium. Ah the laughter!

I've got to do something about this cock-gobbling peeping tom. And since I can't just turn around and shoot him (I would break the window and I'm not paying for a new one) I will have to devise an alternative method for ridding myself of this fucking pervert. I have made a list of what I can do to prevent this pickle-licker from watching me while I work:

1. Punch him in the face. Simple. Effective. Gets the job done. And it's fun!

2. Run my car into the base of the scaffolding. He'll fall to his death. I'll have a good laugh. In the end, we'll both come out on top. Except for him. He won't.

3. Gasoline, fire, a lot of kindling. I'm going to roast him like a motherfucking marshmallow.

4. Build a cage around the base of the scaffolding. Fill the cage with hungry lions and rapid squirrels. Wait for him to die. Rinse. Repeat.

5. Go back to my old neighborhood. Bring back several of my old crackhead acquaintances. In a cage, of course, they're not real people. Let them loose in the parking lot. Tell them that Googly-Eye O'Dickslap has a pocketful of quarters and a bag of crack in his shoe. He's as good as dead.

6. Train a falcon to fly up and attack him. Also train him to steal that asshole's wallet. He owes
me that.

7. Failing all else, take sledge hammer to the window. Step out onto scaffolding. Inquire about his motives for watching me in my place of business. Ask him how he would prefer to die. Ignore his request and bludgeon him with a flashlight.

I have many options, but whatever I choose, this guy needs to go. Fast. He's creeping me the hell out and I can't concentrate on not working. It's been about an hour now since he last looked at me and...... HEY! QUIT LOOKING AT ME YOU KITTEN-RAPING CACTUS FELLATOR! I'M GOING TEAR YOUR EYES OUT! GO THE FUCK AWAY!

Asshole.