He punched me back, and it was a punch that a weak baby would throw. Was he perhaps amusing to fight in some way? Why were fans taking such joy out of attacking him? The idea that it could be just some joke, a string of cruelty done for the memes, was too much to bear. I was seduced by the siren song of seeing if he was some kind of special NPC. Is this commentary on how America treats people in service industry jobs? Are we meant to realize, perhaps by looking at the blood on our hands, the moral toll we’ve incurred by punching this guy like seven hundred times? And in return, we treat him like garbage. All of our flippant, short-lived pleasures are enabled by this man.
Yet despite these burdens, the valet still shows up for work each and every day to ensure that we can gain access to the casino.
