"I don't know why you're gaining up on me when I was only doing my friend a fucking favor, Parker! What you should be worried about is your pathetic life because I'm pretty sure that five years from now, you'll be paying someone to take your virginity and to date your punk ass because they'll be sorry for you!"
"And five years from now, you'll be getting your umpteenth divorce from a gold digging whore, and you'll be filling for bankruptcy, again!"
"At least I'll be married, with kids, you reserved fuck-meat!"
"You know what? I have better things to do, such as run this morning radio show." Peter says as he opens the door for Harry to leave the booth. "Get the fuck out of here you snobby rich boy! I haven't got all day, Osborn so get out! Come on, Max! We've got a show to finish!"
Harry snorts.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
"Max left over and hour and a half ago while you were running your big ass mouth, but you probably didn't even notice because your flapping lips were blocking your horrible vision!" Harry snaps.
"Quit lying, you ass wipe!"
"He left a note on the window you fucking four-eyed nerd. I swear, you're an even bigger tool with your glasses on!" Harry snaps, as he reads the incoming news that just appeared on his phone.
"What? We're here all alone?! This is my nightmare come true! Stuck with a pompous windbag, in a radio booth, while a hurricane is in the area. Kill me now. Do you have a knife or something, Osborn?" Peter asks. "Osborn?" But he's in Max's seat on the other side of the booth.
"Hey, loser." He respond with a huge shit eating grin on his face.
"You!" Peter sneers.