Bieber is about ten years away from being a jaded a$$hole in a dive bar, telling anyone who will listen about how his bytch ex wife kept custody of his kids and took his house. He'll constantly smell like a mixture of shyt and chemicals, but the part time job as janitor of the rubber molding plant doesn't pay bad. He'll be prone to dark moods where he wishes he was still young and good looking, settling instead for jail-tattooed cougars that think he's still "purdy." He'll knock one up and they'll both get even more fat and miserable together. She'll run off with all of his money
one night after he passes out, face first, in a bowl of Applebees chicken fingers one Saturday. Then the whole process starts over again.