The boss is out of town, and so is the office coordinator who always tries to make me work. I figured I'd take this opportunity to shoot the moon and pull a Tuberski. Instead, interlopers have been foiling my plan. I'm gonna go make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. After that, I'll probably retire to the men's room and jerk off to thoughts of further grilled cheese sandwiches. Then I'll use a plastic trash bag to help myself achieve climax, die in a freak auto-asphyxiation accident, and wait in hell until the rest of you get there.
I'LL SEE YOU ALL IN HELL! Or maybe just after lunch.
I'LL SEE YOU ALL IN HELL! Or maybe just after lunch.
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