Broken Finger wrote:
Fuck all that. Here's what you do on your twenty-first birthday. Buy a bottle of whiskey, a garden hose, and a small-calibre handgun. Steal a car...what's that? You have a car? Doesn't matter. Steal a car and drive as erratically as you can until you get pulled over. Hold your gun out the window and fire off a warning shot. The police will appreciate your straightforward way of letting them know you have a gun, and will thank you. Attempt to bribe the policeman with the garden hose. If that doesn't work, offer him a drink.
Being the clean-cut kid that you are, you'll probably get off with a warning. Either way, you are going to have some great fucking stories to tell your grandchildren one day, and that's really what life's all about.
That sage advice was your present, by the way.
*looks at his fellow interns and thinks about the night so far*
Eh, close enough.
This is truly a madhouse. And I'm the lunatic running it. I've spent three years wondering if I should be proud or ashamed.