that lad on the phone was telling me something about internet service. something like... smoke the web up to five times faster with bullshit accelerator... something like that. i just let him continue talking, because i was recording it. i'd play it back into jimmy carter's answering machine at 3 am (he never answers any more. if he does, bonus, i'll just play it to him). as the lad droned on, i started to notice a need to urinate. while i didn't really have to be mentally present to keep him going, i had to at least emit a regular stream of gutteral noises to make it seem like i was actually listening. and i needed to let ol' jimmy know about this special offer, damn it.
a solution shortly presented itself in the form of an idea, an idea i got when i noticed the window was open and about two feet out of my maximum cord range. i unzipped and started steering ol' steve the wheelie chair over. i paused for a moment of meditation, as i did not want any drip on the floor. then i let it rip.
man, was that a bad time for the mailman to come.
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