Crushing's too good for him. First he'll spend a year in the incinerator. Year two: Cryogenic refrigeration wing. Then TEN years in the chamber I built where all the robots scream at you. THEN I'll kill him.

There was even going to be a party for you. A big party that all your friends were invited to. I invited your best friend, the Companion Cube. Of course, he couldn't come because you murdered him. All your other friends couldn't come, either, because you don't have any other friends because of how unlikable you are. It says so right here in your personnel file: "Unlikable. Liked by no one. A bitter, unlikable loner, whose passing shall not be mourned. Shall NOT be mourned." That's exactly what it says. Very formal. Very official. It also says you were adopted, so that's funny, too.

The wind's gettin' a bit choppy. You can compensate for it, or you can wait it out, but he might leave before it dies down. It's your call. Remember what I've taught you. Keep in mind variable humidity and wind speed along the bullet's flight path. At this distance you'll also have to take the Coriolis Effect into account.

And the angels, the children of the heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: "Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children."

And all the others together with them took unto themselves wives, and each chose for himself one, and they began to go in unto them and to defile themselves with them, and they taught them charms and enchantments, and the cutting of roots, and made them acquainted with plants. And they became pregnant, and they bare great giants, whose height was three thousand ells: Who consumed all the acquisitions of men. And when men could no longer sustain them, the giants turned against them and devoured mankind. And they began to sin against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish, and to devour one another's flesh, and drink the blood. Then the earth laid accusation against the lawless ones.

Michael: I'm trying to relate to you.
Jimmy: No, you're trying to take me on some nostalgia trip. You're such a cliche.
Michael: Oh! says the dope-smoking, game-playing, live-at-home, world-owes-him-a-living millennial.