Bullet

My anger brewed like a boiling pot of Ecuadorian coffee roast. Each word he uttered pushed me into a deeper state of abhoration. I just wished I had a gun to finish him off once and for all to rid me of his conceited aura. His lonely and pompous persona just irked me. We are similar in that respect; both chastised by, and isolated because of, our arrogance. He did it for self-dignity, not because "the economy is in shambles" as he said and as a result my free ointment was no longer free. We engaged in a debate of wit, in which I attempted to alter his course of entrepanuery. My negotiations and attempts to gain free fish scrap were in vain. That is until a bullet protruded through his vein. Instantly he dropped to the floor clutching his calf muscle. I could tell he busted his perforators, but I withheld that information. As he rolled around in agony, I bathed in elation, as I slyly and easily grabbed my free fish scrap and ventured back to my sewer. The day was exhausting, and I was parched. Each time I readjusted my mandible (jaw bone) my tongue would scrape across the dry roof of my mouth, creating a noise similar to when you sand away at wood. I squeezed my mouth desperately attempting to wring out the last remnants of saliva left in my oral cavity. None came out. I stared at the water pipes lining my sewer thinking of how I could penetrate the steel piping in order to delve into the luscious and revitalizing liquid encased in the pipe. Simultaneous to my thoughts, the pipe burst open spraying water everywhere. I stood in utter silence, allowing the semi-powerful stream of water beat upon my chest, realizing the eerie coincident of thought that occurred today. I got Donald shot and busted a pipe; my thoughts were interrupted by the road work crew who came down to fix the leak.