Severed Human Heads on Display: Film at eleven.
Some people are cowardly. Some people are fucking stupid. There are a few who have the distinction of being both. I work in the sort of job where I don't get to go home until my scheduled replacement arrives. Last night we had a heavy snowstorm, so of course I get a call from the stupid motherfucker. He's telling me that his car won't start, and he can't get a hold of anyone to jump start it. I make an arrangement for someone to give the worthless shit some assistance, and give Dolt Boy a number to call. He then calls me back claiming the call wouldn't go through. I take down the directions and pass them along myself. Later I get a call from my assistant informing me that the street Brainless supposedly lives on doesn't seem to be there. Calls to the humanoid fertilizer heap go straight to an answering machine and are not replied to. My eight hour work shift turns into a sixteen hour work shift and my assistant on this loses two hours of her own and wastes gasoline. I'm going to research methods of homicide that take days to finish, because I want the Rectum That Walked Like A Man to suffer before his inevitable end. Do I seem a little angry?