19 June 02
Now we demand a chance to do things for ourself. We’re tired of beatin’ our head against the wall and workin’ for someone else. We’re people, we’re just like the birds and the bees — we’d rather die on our feet than be livin’ on our knees.
There is a hint of the beginnings of two things growing out of the roof of my mouth. They’re either wisdom teeth, doing their best to come in where there isn’t much room to do so, or they’re soon to be retractable poison fangs with which I can fight crime and protect humanity. Oh, how I wish they aren’t teeth.