Resolutions

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Man, I'm freaking tired.

The pace at work over the last few months has been nothing short of blistering: I like the cool lab coat and all, but if I would have known that stem cell research would be so time consuming I woulda scraped out those Petri dishes right into the toilet a long time ago.

The Christmas 'break' was all jammed up too. I mean besides the usual shopping, police harassment and anarchy, I was working a grueling schedule donating my time teaching orphans to shoplift after school: there's just nothing like the sense of satisfaction you get when you look into the gleeful, hungry eye of one that has just boosted his [or her] first iPod.

I would still be doing those $20 seminars, but one of the more entrepreneurial of the little pricks lifted my wallet. Can you believe that? Man, you can't trust nobody nowadays. They're fiercely loyal to each other too: I practically hadda squish poor lil Jimmy through a fine mesh screen before he tearfully broke down and ratted on his own brother. Growing up in that decrepit old house together must have fostered some pretty serious bonding --and I don't mean decrapit in the 'quaint' sense of the word either: that place is a total dump. Too bad it didn't foster some taste instead.

But things are winding down to a crawl, and now I have the leisure time to design and develop my Evil Robot Minions. Chrysler says they can bring my Peacekeeper v1.1 into production for the paltry sum of $458,596,054.13 apiece, which is about $458,596,032.65 more than Jimmy's scumbag orphan brother left on my debit card. Now I have to decide between rewarding loyal lil Jimmy with the winter coat I promised him or cup holders.

... But I happen to be very fond of Starbucks, and the last thing Jimmy's shithole needs is moths.