Look at yourself. Seriously, look.

You’re not even tied up, for fuck’s sake; I just handed you a baseball bat and you somehow got tangled on it. I can accept that you’re not bright, but, well… there’s a limit, y’know? You’re an obedient set of holes, but you’re also twenty-four years old and apparently unqualified to play with fucking sticks.

Jesus.

On the other hand, it should be easy to discard you when I’ve used you up. I can just walk you into a revolving door at the mall and let nature take its course.