So then when the door is closed I'm pulling at my balls through my pants to scratch them; like a dead cockroach in my pubic hair would really help things out.

I'm laughing about it with one of my buddies, and she says, man they're gonna shut this place Down. I saw three baby roaches and she saw four.

- There's a nest in here! Not good, says The DeathMarch. She caught a good look at the third, and went to town on his ass. Fucking Hardcore. That knock rattled the screens. Who's in charge! And The fucking DM charges out of the room, gunning for the Manager.

He's not there yet, so she has to content herself by letting all the other people know that this place is falling to pieces.

Meanwhile, I really want to scratch my balls. I just found out what neurotic fear means. I'm starting to think about the possibilities, now. Like, if I take one home in my shoes, (or on my fucking cock, man! Jesus!) I got the Super-Soldier at the house, though. He likes to kill invaders.

I throw a bunch of Roach Motels in the office, and that's my day at the Hellhole.

So I get back home and then wash and do the laundry and then I continue to scratch behind my ears. Soon I'll sleep and it'll be cool. Just baby roaches anyway.