Listen, Did You Piss My Floor or What?
Just arrived home after a sensible 3-hour beer bender. I had intended to eat some Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, listen to ABBA and go to bed, but as I walked in the door I met a ghastly odor: urine! Fucking urine! Who pissed in my house? Who dares befoul my castle?! Probably the cat, but I can't be sure. Could've been anyone. The old proverb says "A bad workman always blames his tools," but I haven't any tools to blame. If you are a tool and want to take one for the team, go ahead and take credit for the piss on my floor. You will be richly rewarded in the afterlife - if you belong to the Anointed Class the Jehovah's Witnesses keep nattering on about. If you're not of the Anointed Class, you will meet eternal death. No afterlife for you. Can't be helped. Piss on all the floors you want, what've you got to lose?