. . . I just want my fuckin' time back from the people who screwed me, y'know?
Is there a, uh, like a time-not a time machine like in H.G. Wells-but like a time . . . extractor gizmo? Something like that?
I could apply my time extractor to the asshole-in-question . . . and get it all back.
Spend my time a little more wisely.
On, oh, I dunno . . . Pokemon.
Or getting a complete set of those Nolan Ryan trading cards they used to have in the Pepsi boxes.
Whatever, so long as I get it back from the assholes.
If only . . . I'd focused on the STEM courses when I was a student.
Then I could have the skills to build this time extractor gimmick.
But I was a theater kid back then.
Fuck . . . talk about inadequate preparation for this vindictive shit-ass lousy fuckin' world.
Ah, well . . . there’s always cholesterol.
And corn syrup.
And, uh, like . . . being a judge for a local fingerpainting contest.
Yeah, man.
I still got good things coming my way.
They're all shit things.
But good things all the same.
It's going to be perfectly adequate.
Yeah . . .
