You are in public minding your own business. Perhaps you are on a bus, or in a classroom where there curiously seems to be no teaching taking place. You have your earphones plugged in listening to the Dragon Age Inquisition soundtrack and reading Legend of Korra headcanons you’ve found browsing the Korrasmi tag on Tumblr.

Your dress is blue, or perhaps white and gold.

There is a boy sitting next to you not minding his own business.The boy looks at you menacingly and you ignore him, because you are minding your own business. You hope your minding of your own business will set a good example for the boy and he will mind his own business as well, but he cannot, because he is a boy.

He is inarguably and objectively a Bad Person, and you are a sensitive molerat of perfection, because he is the antagonist and you are the protagonist, and this is fictional, and you’re self-righteous, a little narcissistic, and a bad writer with a victim complex.

“Hey,” says the boy. “Legend of Korra is stupid, and you’re stupid.” He takes a sip from his Monster energy drink and adjusts his Nike Elite basketball socks.

“Please leave me alone,” you say, somehow maintaining your calm demeanor in the face of this warthog.

“No,” says the boy. He rips your headphones out, knocks your phone to the ground, and spits on it.

You continue to ignore him in order to further develop your character as the most innocent flower who ever lived.

But the boy won’t leave you alone, because he is a boy and a Bad Person and an exaggerated composite caricature meant to fester the self-perceived superiority you hold over the average person. What more could you expect from a boy who has Eminem lyrics tattooed on his left forearm and smells like Axe body spray?

Your college professor, who is in the next seat over, approaches you.

“Is this boy disturbing you?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say. “I was just sitting here, a delicate kitten with perfect eyebrows, when he began to bother me.”

“Would you like me to take care of it?” he asks.

“Yes, please!” you say. “Do it for all the perfect swan people like me, for anyone who has ever had to suffer the misery of being in public surrounded by obnoxious teenage boys like this boogieman here.”

Your middle school principal is there too. He is an authority figure, but on your side, unlike every other authority figure in the world who refuses to acknowledge that you are simply a soft, white cloud floating amongst a thunderstorm.

“Sir,” says your professor to the boy, “You’re under arrest.” It turns out your professor was a police officer.

Everyone applauds.

Your middle school principal steps in. “And I’m suspending you for ten days,” he says. It turns out your middle school principal had just been elected principal of the world.

Everyone applauds louder.

“We have one more announcement,” your professor says. He grabs your principal’s hand. “We’re in love.”

It turns out they were actually Dean Winchester and Castiel from Supernatural. There was also a black actor there because you’re not a racist. It’s Idris Elba because you don’t know any other black actors.

Your expert diversity causes everyone to applaud even louder. The applause grows wild and uncontrollable. No one can stop clapping. Hands become sore. Voices become strained from cheering. Everyone is frightened.

You can’t wait to get home to your computer to write this totally true story so your followers can share in your vindication, believing its ridiculousness wholesale solely because it feeds into their own victim complexes.

This story happened.