TORONTO, ON—What was assumed to be a quick in-and-out withdrawal at a Queen Street TD Bank Green Machine turned out to be an excruciating test of superhuman patience for seven people as some asshole decided to budget his whole goddamned existence at the frigging ATM.

"Sorry guys! I'm allllllmost done!" announced the asshole, who was just such an asshole it bears repeating. "Just trying to figure out if I can afford to max out my TFSAs! Ugh! Banks, am I right?!"

Nonetheless, the selfish prick's sunny disposition only seemed to peck at the nerves of everyone in line. One elderly woman was heard muttering her displeasure towards the offending skin-covered pile of garbage: "I'm going to pluck out his eyes, boil them in a pepper broth and serve it to his blind ass," she explained, maintaining a chilling calm as she spoke.

One gentleman directly behind the walking, talking genital wart claimed that he cracked several of his own molars from clenching his jaw so hard in a bid to restrain his ungodly wrath. "I've never been so outraged in all my life," he said afterwards. "Every beep-boop that asshat made began to sound like he was begging to be killed in Morse code."

After six long minutes, the Green Machine finally emitted the merciful tone to signal that the sexless bottom-feeding toilet man was finished with his transaction. "Whoopsie!" he then exclaimed. "I hit 'Cancel' instead of 'Correction'!"

At this, a man in his mid-fifties burst into tears, moaning at how unfair it all was and that there had never been such an unrepentant douche-wizard like this when he had an account at BMO, never ever.

This Clint-Howard-looking-motherfucker then turned around and exclaimed: "Guys, I'm just going to open an American account and then it's 23 skidoo!"

A collective groan emanated from the line, followed by righteous outrage: "You can't even do that at a Green Machine, can you?!!" "Go see a goddamned teller, you incredible idiot!" "I have a school bus full of children waiting on me!"

"Anyone want to cosign on a line of credit for me?" joked the bulging butt-trumpet. "Daddy needs a Ford Flex!"

A bichon frise snarled in its owner's arms, somehow comprehending in its doggie-brain how useless this vapid turdmuffin was.

After eight agonizing minutes, the giant rat's anus finished up and took his stupid dumb debit card. He issued another worthless apology to everyone and stepped out, hopping on his – you guessed it – unicycle.