With any luck, there will come a day, when someone (not altogether unlikely that this someone will be you) will be asked to come and bail me out of jail. I will happily await your arrival, the trial, and sentencing stage. Content, I will then enjoy endless hours of simultaneous reading and smirking as I pay my debt to society. I look forward to this time almost as much as I look forward to the actual act of carefully and painfully dismembering the little shitball who set off our fire alarm at the wee hours of this (otherwise) fine morning.
It takes great balls to pull a fire alarm at midnight-thirty on the coldest night thusfar of the summer, and even greater cohones to run from alarm to alarm, somehow impenetrable to the brain shattering sirens, and yanking alarm after alarm as you go. I look forward to removing said balls from said owner. And it's not just me; I had the opportunity to meet several of my neighbors while standing in my skivvies in the cold, 2am, September air. I mean, what better time, right? They, too, it seems, fail to see the humor in all the eggings and other ongoing inconceivably inconsiderate shenanigans. They did, however, seem to find the humor in my enippleated pajamas.