Interview

An interview with a gentleman addicted to caffeine.

I sat down on a couch, at least as much as one could sit on such an unstable object, what with Mr. Petrotsky constantly shaking it from under me. Either way, I sat with the twitchy gentleman of jiggly tendencies to discuss his barbaric bean intake. After he managed, through very intense effort, to gain control of his dentures, he was able to babble a few undecipherable syllables. This proceeded for a long enough time that I saw myself forced to adopt drastic measures. I quickly went to his kitchen, grabbed the largest pot I could find, filled it with a variety of cold liquids, and proceeded to walk up to the gentleman and empty it on him. The expected fury this incited was mostly overtaken by his loss of ability to further emit any sounds. Understandably, this unexpected disability to expect any cooperation from him in this interview infuriated me and led to the lamentable event that followed. My judgment obscured by my frustration, I took hold of the pot, lifted it above my head, and continually brought it down upon his head, understandably extracting a copious amount of blood from his craneal area.