In which I regret my impulsiveness...
My attempt to fix/supercharge the lesser of my two hydrocannons was ill-advised, to understate grotesquely. I have done incalculable property damage so far in excess of the $10 value of the water gun that the entire venture seems a cruel self-parody. My apartment is a splish-splosh swamp, littered with the tragic remains of supermarket-bought dishes and cracked Chinese plastic. The gun itself, once merely broken, is now far too volatile to touch. It sits on the floor of my shower stall, hissing angrily at me and occasionaly belching great ugly gouts of water without asking permission.
I don't think I should be allowed to own a screwdriver.
6 comments:
I don't believe it's possible to destroy an apartment with a water gun, even for you. I want pictures. of carnage. and bloody head wounds.
I didn't say destroyed - just damaged. Most of the carnage, sadly for you, has now been cleaned up.
The damn thing started to erupt while I tinkered with it at my desk, spraying water everywhere. In the rush to get it to the bathroom, I inadvertently broke a bunch of dishes, and appear to have irreparably damaged my already ailing DVD player.
There, are you happy? You won't be happy until you've sucked all the poetry out of everything...
There are also a bunch of piece of broken plastic whose origins I can't identify.
I want pictures. of a head wound.
poetry is for pansies.
I'm unclear where you found reason to expect seeping head wounds.
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