Shia LaDouche Threatens To Have A Dude Killed

December 8, 2013 / Posted by:

Well, it looks like this week is all about trashy douche infections thinking they’re Don Corleone or some shit. First, crackie crime boss Lindsay Lohan masterminded a face-punching beat down on Wonky McValtrex’s little brother and now ultimate ass wart Shia LaDouche allegedly threatened to put a hit out on a dude during a fight in a restaurant.

The Sun (via DM) says that Shia continues to terrorize the UK while filming that Fury movie with Brad Pitt. LaDouche was having dinner at some fancy restaurant in London’s Covent Garden when a fan came up to him to tell him what a fan she is, I guess. That’s where ho went wrong. Interrupting LaDouche while he’s sipping on booze or eating is like interrupting my chihuahua while he’s nibbling on a Snausage. Bitch will growl. Bitch will show teeth. Bitch will drool out saliva strings of rage. Bitch will snap at your hand. Bitch will get lipstick while doing all of that.

A source says that the fan’s conversation with Shia ended with her leaving his table in tears. So either Shia was a throbbing cunt to her or the realization that she’s the only Shia LaDouche fan on earth hit her hard and unexpectedly. A quick second later, the fan’s boyfriend came at Shia and they got into it. The source says that Shia “looked out of control” and screamed, “I can get you killed,” before he was kicked out of the restaurant.

I can get you killed…” Bitch, you ain’t Renee Graziano, your life ain’t Mob Wives and VH1’s cameras ain’t following you around everywhere. Shia can’t get even himself showered properly and he’s talking about how he’s going to get a dude killed. If he really wanted to inflict serious pain and mental suffering on his restaurant rival, he would’ve given that dude free tickets to see the 4-hour-long torture art porn he’s in.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to order my fist to punch my head for feeling feelings other than “heave” and “barf” while looking at that picture of Shia LaDouche. He looks like he smells like an ass jelly and dick cheese sandwich. Or like a queef trapped in a fart. And yet I look at him looking like he has the meth sweats and I still say, “I would and I would hard.” I have a disease.

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