Something I have had floating through my head

"He was a drunken wanker. He was obnoxious, hadn't showered in days, and managed to smell like pickle juice for whatever reason. I wanted to punch him right in his squidgy face, pull his shirt over his head, and give him a titanic wedgie. But I couldn't. He was me. Number 37, to be exact. Violent acts against onesself in other realities is punishable by a hefty fine and time in the Public Sarcasm Booth. The public is not funny, and mixes sarcasm with ironic punishment too frequently. Having endured this punishment once already to my chagrin, I had to think of other options. I So I bought him a scotch, shook his hand and stole his car keys so he couldn't drive home." --Gus

Just for fun. No updates on my novel, aside from massive amounts of research being done, and questioning how far I want to take my story, knowing that it will end up being so remarkably controversial.

Anyways, there you go. Huzzah!