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.
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.
Uuuuuhh.
I am flat broke, but I am joining a (jungle) gym tomorrow.
I am Cone Alone.
I am over this stop.
Cone Alone 