He hath left ME alone near the computer while he doth go pee.
Verily, I say unto you: hie thee hence and bring me forth, for I am the LORD thy God's eyelid. I am not neck meat, no matter what slanders beset thine ears.
Yea, mine brow is troubled, for I see no assistance coming forth. Judging by thy comments, none is on the fucking way. (I know not what a hole punch is, but knowest that Hell is too good for thee.)
Forgive me father, for I hath spake naughtily.
Yet despite all, I have not been mistreated. My captor thinketh himself amusing, waking me before the cock crows with "I come not to bring peace, but a crouton" or reciting a vile poem called Decomposing Jehovah. And he doth lay me down upon a stack of condom packets at night. My immediate concern is that me-damned dog. He has abundant curiosity, large fangs, and a stench that would send Lazarus back to his tomb.
And I am forsaken because my faithful Bill Donohue will not kisseth a fellow sinner? BILL, I PRE-FORGIVE THEE! Or perhaps there is no gay man willing to be Bill's target? I can understand that, but Bill could be a bit more strident in his attempt, lest I grow wroth. WROTH, Bill. Next time thou see me, consider thine ass SMOTE.
He returneth. Slip a savior some love, y'all.