One night, right? I look up and there's Marty in my office. He's got some champagne. He tells me we just hit 30,000 billable hours on U/North and he wants to celebrate. So an hour later, I find myself in a whorehouse in Chelsea with two Lithuanian redheads taking turns sucking my dick. I'm laying there and I'm trying not to come and I wanna... I wanna make it last, so I start doing the math. I think, "Thirty thousand hours, what is that? That's 24 times 30. That's 720 hours in a month, 8760 hours in a year..." Because it's years! It's lives! And the numbers are making me dizzy and, you know... now, instead of trying not to come, I'm trying not to think, and I can't stop. I mean, is this me? Am I this freak organism that has been sent here to sleep and eat... and defend this one horrific chain of carcinogenic molecules? Is that my destiny? Is that my fate? Is that my grail? Two Lithuanian mouths on my cock? Is that the correct answer to the multiple choice of me?
N
nebbie
Member From waterloo, toronto
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