Flaming Underwear Upside the Head

Somebody better come up with a solution for this shit real fucking quick because I am starting to lack feeling for anything or anybody and that could be bad for all of you. If I ever figure out how to wire toasters to explode, your breakfast could suddenly be very exciting. I might be a breakfast food terrorist and start hiding in your jam with loaded weapons ready to pop out covered in sticky strawberry goo and lobbing grenades at you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes. If I had a nickle for every time I thought about fragging someone over waffles and coffee, I'd be a rather rich woman.

Maybe I'll train an army of carnivorous dust-bunnies to attack you in your sleep. You'll suddenly wake up choking on dust mites and having your toes nibbled off by sharp little furry teeth. That shit would suck. Or maybe I'll put venomous snakes in you shower drain and poisonous toads in your toilet. Maybe I'll set fire to your underwear drawer, rig your doorbell to electrocute you and eat the last piece of pie without offering you any.

The point to all of this is: I'm losing my sympathy for your plight. I'm finding I don't much care for your dirty socks or your morning breath. I don't really care what you think about... well... anything. And I'd really like my fucking comic books back. And my hat. It was my favorite. And don't forget to fall down the stairs on your way out, asshole.

PS; I rigged one of your sex toys to detonate the next time you use it. Toodles! :)