Vito stood before his audience, mid-way through a lecture on the current state of media, when he saw a man stand.
“You fuckin’ lib-tards and your bullshit support of the Sunderman dictatorship!”
Another man stood, on the other side of the room. “Hey! Get your backwards-ass ignorant fuckwad self outta here you neo-Con redneck!”
“You think you’re so brave, get the fuck over here and I’ll show you bravery, like I showed it to your mother last night!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dave?” the man shouted back. “You know my mother died last year!”
“Yeah, because I pounded her too hard, unh unh! Yeah, fuck you and your mother, and I’ll come take your wife too, Rory!”
“Gentlemen,” Vito said, “if we should return to the matter at hand…”
“Shut your face, OP! I’m a third degree black belt and have studied media more in-depth for the past 20 years than you could ever dream! And Rory, I know where you live, so I’m gonna find you and I’m gonna fuck up your life so bad, your salt ass will be sore until the second coming!”
“Dave, what the fuck is wrong with you? Typical ignorant bullshit, you can’t have a decent discussion without threatening violence or throwing shit everywhere? Quit being a fuck-tard, you dumb-ass!”
Vito grabbed the microphone. “LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND MAN-CHILDREN. SIT DOWN. NOW.” The two men just looked at him. “SIT. DOWN.”
“But – ”
“I just – ”
“SIT DOWN.” The two sat. “I WAS GOING TO CONTINUE MY DISCUSSION. BUT APPARENTLY, THE ENTIRE THRUST IS LOST ON YOU. THIS TALK IS DONE. THERE WILL BE NO REFUNDS. I WISH I COULD SAY GOODNIGHT, BUT IT WASN’T. SO LONG. I WON’T BE RETURNING HERE.” Vito turned and left the stage, while the audience started grumbling.
“GOOD FUCK JOB, DAVE!” Rory yelled, and the place erupted.