This Is The End

I can hear Jim whispering into my ear. The end is nigh. At least, it feels that way. I've just undergone the excruciating pain of watching 12 minutes of basketball with a score. And we're talking a college game. The home team is blowing it. They're about to lose to a 1-19 team. The home team isn't all that great, but you can imagine how things are going if they're playing to the level of a 1-19 squad.

 

Would that be 12 minutes without a score?

 

Um, yes. It's difficult to type and keep up with a high-scoring affair like this.

 

Watched one a couple of weeks ago in which the home team took a 39-32 lead with 12:36 to play.

Final score: Visitors 54, home team 39.

It was women's ball, but it was lower I-A women's ball.

 

My only friend -- the end.

 

And, in the end, the shots you make, are equal to (about 20% of) the shots you take.

: :

 

The killer awoke before dawn ....

 

Don't worry. The F-18s should by at any moment to napalm the shit out of Col. Kurtz's village. If you paint your face and hide the muddy reeds, you should survive.

 

... He put his boots on ....

 

He stole a face from the ancient gallery and then he...

WALKED ON DOWN THE HALL!

 

(Don't capitalize yet.)

He went into the room where his sister lived, and then he ...

Paid a visit to his brother, and then he ....

(now capitalize)

HE WALKED ON DOWN THE HALL!

 

AND HE CAME TO A ROOM...

AND HE WALKED INSIDE...