I'm in the middle of a colossal struggle in my professional life with a few people I have very little respect for right now and who've violated a lot of trust - at any rate - as frustrated as I am I realized I don't even have worthy enemies in my life. The one who I considered an enemy I turned over to God and his house got smashed into by drug-fiends and they had him screaming like a little girl in his bathroom holed up with his wife and kid. Better that the police look for those guys than me.
At any rate, I don't even have decent enemies. Nobody that requires me to dress up in some tights in the middle of the night lurking on rooftops while I spend my days developing some intensely effective and very illegal military-scale hardware and a cover story to account for how I suffered brutal injuries at the office during my normal job while I nurse ammo and knife blades out of my flesh in the middle of boardroom meetings claiming "Its just a flesh wound...."
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| Me in a boardroom meeting |
However in all this, just one time I want to say with a steely glare quietly across a boardroom in a voice very Clint Eastwood-esque, ".....you know.....I've killed better men than you."
The one I'd REALLY like to say in a boardroom meeting is THIS: I know what you're thinking, punk. You're thinking "did he fire six shots or only five?" Now to tell you the truth I forgot myself in all this excitement. But being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and will blow you head clean off, you've gotta ask yourself a question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya, punk?
