By the time my car came to a rest in front

By the time my car came to a rest in front of the station, I was so enthralled in my daydream that I didn’t notice myself turning the ignition into the off position. I almost

sharted but I unbuttoned my pants instead. I was daydreaming about the restroom. This station did not look like the kind where the bathroom isn't chock full of Hep C, but

that was the fun of it. I would try 34 more bathrooms that day, a kind of hepatitis Russian roulette in my half-hearted suicide attempts. All because her speeches bored me so.

That night, though, as I stared into the murky depths of the 35th urinal, a new thought struck me with the force of a brick-filled handbag to the jaw. I didn't have to listen to

my parole agent's bullshit Horse Latin logic. I could just head south of the border and become the Mexican Donald Trump. With 17 dollars in my pocket and a bag filled with

a billion more dollars, I could buy up all the cocaine in Mexico and exchange it for blowjobs. It was a foolproof strategy, but unfortunately, I was no fool.

Only a fool would attempt such a dangerous heist, and only a fool would succeed. I decided to abandon the idea. Cocaine and blowjobs would have to wait. Right now I was on my way

to a far less dangerous heist at the Super Soaker factory. "Don't be a hero!" I shouted as I burst in. One woman ignored my advice, shooting me with water. I shot her with bullets.

can't get me!" and hid behind the formica desk. I took aim and was ready to fire when the security system kicked in. We were barraged with 500 water balloons. Damn kids!