Minutes 2 Midnight

If I had my own version of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, it would be called The Ballsack and the Bandsaw. I know it's not a perfect comparison, but both me and that French guy know what it means to be locked into our fates. Of course, his was an accident, and mine was caused by my own stupidity and the manipulation of the universe, but still. The clock is running down and "Hail Mary" passes are just about the only thing I've got left in the playbook.

But, that doesn't mean I'm throwing in the towel. No, siree. I'm gonna whip that bad boy into a rat-tail and snap the shit out of the few days I've got left when they're making a run for the shower after gym class. Bravado aside, I know this is the end. The final days of my ten-year reprieve topside. I cleaned up some messes, made a few more, and got back to scrubbing. Now, it's not just the end of my life that's on the line. I may only have minutes until midnight, but I'm going to make them count.