Ballprints in the Butter...

"You know what it’s like when you come home from work and you’re still upset about that whole thing with Jenkins after lunch when he was trying to horn in on your ideas and you were all “Jenkins, what the f*ck?” and Jenkins gave you that goddamn smug smile that makes him look like a rat and if Mr. Avery wasn’t there you would have smacked his smart mouth with a stapler, but all you could do was try to sound smarter than the little bitch and it irked you the whole day? And then on the drive home you got stuck at that red light next to the bar where all the tranny hookers hang out, and the red lasts literally five minutes, so for five minutes you just had to sit there trying to ignore the three trannies who were asking if you wanted to taste some cock candy? And then you finally get home and all you want is to have a drink and make a sandwich and then you go into the fridge and there’s no beer left and the only Coke is already open, and the cheese was left unwrapped so it got that dark, chunky crust buildup that you hate, and when you grabbed the butter you could swear there was a perfect impression of a waxed scrotum in there, detailed wrinkles and all? That doesn’t happen by accident."