I Am Completely Serious

It's sitting on my desk here, it's one of those ones with sort of fakey brushed-metal parts over plastic parts. I finished the coffee in it about ten minutes ago. And now it's buzzing at me. Or hissing, I guess it sounds like static. It's kind of freaking me out. Maybe I shouldn't be putting coffee in this thing, I'm like feeding it or something. When it has imbibed enough of the dark liquid, it will extend its hot silvery robotic tendrils, and begin implementing its plans. Its plans to fundraise for a Catholic nonprofit I guess. Organize a silent auction of local crafts and homemade fruit preserves.

I don't even know where this cup came from, I guess from a nun. Did someone in my house steal a cup from a nun?

My frustration with the cup is symbolic of my frustration with absolutely everything. It is only Tuesday and I already wish this week was over.

(I am going to kick a couple of lazy-ass property appraisers in the face. Fuck property appraisers.)