You’ve decided to pull one last big job and then retire, although it is unclear exactly how this will work for a trombone instructor.
You’ll inspire thousands to go out and do something with their lives in order not to wind up being as pathetic and useless as you are.
The rescue workers won’t need to knock down an entire wall of your house to get you out, but they want to make you feel extra fat.
You’ll resolve not to fall for the same old tricks just as your shoelace goes untied, a menacing figure looms up right behind you, and you finally find true love.
Someday you’ll look back on all this and laugh, you sick, demented, inhuman monster.
Love means different things to different people, but you’ll have a hard time finding someone to whom it means “a profound degree of affection.”
It’s kind of disappointing, really, but it turns out you and your archenemy actually aren’t that much alike at all.
People have a hard enough time believing “timbersports” are a real thing without you trying to achieve notoriety by becoming its all-time most penalized participant.
It turns out that sorting is one of God’s least favorite things, as you’ll learn this week when you decide to kill them all and let Him sort them out.
While it’s true there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make your friends happy, that impulse will soon come into conflict with your willingness to do anything for a decent piece of pie.
You never thought you’d get tired of the endless parade of deep-fried food that is your life, and sure enough, it hasn’t happened yet.
Unfortunately, popular entertainment has led you to believe that when you try to deliver a baby while trapped in a malfunctioning elevator, the mother and baby both survive.
