How do I know that my flight is going to

How do I know that my flight is going to take off in time? The estimated time of arrival says two hours by my intuition says
not likely. I'd just been through the airport screening and was groped and fondled by the TSA guard, who looked bored as I was touched in places a member of my same sex had never
even seen. Little did the TSA guard know, my genitals weren't exactly... human.. unless you call tentacles human. But, this TSA guard
wouldn't have noticed if a dirty bomb was tucked there. He was too busy drooling over the blond "suspect" behind me they'd pulled out of queue for her suspiciously low neckline.
But I had to relax. My psychiatrist says I'm paranoid. My response to that crap is, "What if it's true?" Then he said, "that's it, you're incurable, get out!" So here I am in the
green room at the studios for Jerry Springer's current episode called "I'm nuttier than a can of peanut brittle" and I'm hoping that the wisdom of the host and his audience will
fill half a thimble. Sybil's cymbal symbol dimpled
with humble dribble was drawn on every nimble bubble, adorning the rubble the rabble blubbered about. In a sudden bout of gout, Sybil's bald ribald rival, Ronald,
clutched at his cherry juice, calling a truce between all things uric and acid. "Hide these," he gasped, thrusting a small baggie of mushrooms, anchovies, and asparagus into my
face. This is the thanks I get for being your intern Chef Ramsey. How could you I have done my best. But I guess it wasn't good enough

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