"Hire me. Hire me. Hire me...."
And then Windows Works "encountered a problem" and had to shut down.
The rhythmic beating heart I could hear in my head became a twelve year old child beating on a set of drums, the cymbals being doubtless the most fascinating thing able to be hit as hard as possible with a pair of bloody WIRE WISKS because DADDY TOOK AWAY THE FUCKING DRUMSTICKS. And worst of all, the 12 year old was white and therefore LACKED ANY IOTA OF RHYTHM.
Damn, another repressed memory surfaces?
I was... dismayed.