PSA for the Guy at Pump Three

This Is a PSA for the Guy at Pump Three

You really thought you did something, didn't you?

Barked across concrete like a parking lot prophet.

"Get back in your car," you said.

"Leave the pumping to the men."

How adorable—that you still think gas stations are temples to your masculinity.

That My existence, unbothered and unescorted, was too much for your Sunday morning.

I hadn't even spoken yet.

You were already unraveling.

Already shaking your little cage of rules and roles,

hoping I'd flinch.

But I didn't.

I kept My hand on the nozzle

and watched your ego overheat.

You couldn't handle that silence, could you?

So you spat something about "big mouths"

and how "a man ought to fill mine."

How original.

Is that line from a bumper sticker or your failed Tinder profile?

Either way—if you think your dick is the fix for confidence,

let Me be the one to break it to you:

you don't dominate.

You distract.

You hide.

Behind keyboards. Behind slogans.

Behind the fantasy that dominance is volume and veins.

You think you're alpha?

You're barely audible.

That was you, sir.

Embarrassed.

Performing masculinity like it's a TikTok trend that expired in 2018.

And the crowd? Oh, they saw you.

They saw your little tantrum.

They saw Me, calm and grinning,

watching you melt under the weight of your own insecurity.

You picked the wrong one.

You thought you'd shame Me into shrinking,

but all you did was hand Me the mic.

And trust Me—

I know how to use it.

So now here you are:

a public service announcement.

A cautionary tale in dirty boots.

A lesson in what happens

when a small man tries to flex against something divine.

Now be a good boy...

and finish fueling your borrowed truck

before someone real pulls up behind you.

PSA for the Guy at Pump Three by GoddessVelvetV

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