You are plaguing me with your incessant money grubbing. I am so tired of coming home and seeing you in your driveway, on a stake out. You are waiting for me to come home because you think that simply showing yourself and hoping I'll pay you for cutting the grass the week you were gone on vacation is going to somehow make it come true. Right?
Wrong, jackass. I'm not paying you for that week because you didn't cut my grass that week. All the bitching, whining, and foaming at the mouth is not going to change that fact. I pay you a ridiculous fee to cut my yard (you greedy bastid) and I pay you ONLY for the times you cut it. Not for the number of weeks that went by. If you don't like it, tough shit.
In conclusion, fuck off, before I physically attack you. Ask the handyman I tackled in my driveway about how it worked out for him when he tried to double charge me. You, Fucko, have stumbled upon one of my top violence-inducing pet peeves. Your only option is to step off, or be humiliated in the neighborhood when I hand your ass to your wife after I've kicked it up and down the street for all to witness. Go away, you insipid little troll.
The woman who is not EVER going to pay you double for cutting the grass.
PS: I hope I've not been too vague.