And with good cause.
I think I was undergoing psychic disintegration at my job by this point. Either that, or I was having fantasies about eating scoops of poop thrown by a clockface demon. But that's a matter for the courts to decide.
Sorry, but if you've broken out in cruciverbis pustulomis, then how else are goat-bearded weirdos supposed to react?
Next Week: More poop 'n' unitards!