Dearest Randal, I'm so sick of gazing upon that inconceivably putrescent shot below that I'm afraid you're going to have to be punished.
"Wake up, you bastard."
Huh? What? Oh. Well, back to traipsing from working on the next paper for class, watching le football américain, deciphering my horrid handwriting in an attempt to add last night's work to the rest of the story and lounging about the house with a lot of pussy. You know, our cats.