A sign blame

I didn’t even want to be here.

And now my parents or legal guardian will find out and I’m going to be in big trouble. And then I can’t ask you-know-who (not Voldemort, duh) to the prom. And then my life will be ruined.

All because I let my friends talk me into this stunt.

We should have stopped, but we didn’t. We couldn’t.

This is a bad sign.

I should have been octagone by now.

I am soooo grounded.

I am Cone Alone.

Over The (S)Top

Ow! Ouch!

Yeesh. Ok you jerk. You win!

Sometimes it gets so boring working near the Capitol in DC. I mean, yeah, I get to see all those people rushing about with an air of importance, but I basically see the same people every day wearing the same clothes (many of the male-identified people wear blue a lot for some reason) and having the same arguments. None of them really do anything for us cones anyway, so I just ignore them. (We don’t even have a Cone delegation in Congress!)

So sue me if I want to ease the boredom with a simple contest with a fellow street worker. I mean, people arm wrestle right?

Well, this is the last time I get into a strength competition with an octagon.  This would never happen to Sylvester Stallone.


I am flat broke, but I am joining a (jungle) gym tomorrow.

I am Cone Alone.

I am over this stop.