Jilly's on smack and she won't be coming back. No she won't be coming back for the hollidays.
Kek. Calm your tits, Nigel. Go have some metric leaf water or something.
Your medal is waiting for you.
Not biting Nigel. Give it up, your crumpets are getting soggy.
Hey guise? What does kayfabe mean?
Imagine. You grow up watching teevee procedural dramas about Feds with morals and integrity. You want to be one more than anything you've ever wanted to be. You look at all the sketchy shit your classmates do and isolate yourself from them, so they don't show up on your pre-employment background check. You deny yourself all the fun of a normal, rebellious teen. You don't date, because Mary Jane Rottencrotch in your biology class might be a Russian spy. You attend community college to get your degree in Criminal Justice. You have to suffer working the streets for 10 years before the FIB fags will even consider you. Everyone you know despises and distrusts you, even your wife and kids, because you'll violate anyone's rights on order from Washington and give zero fucks about it. That sweet, sweet Gubmint pension is only a few years away.
You make it into the Intelligence Directorate after years of tonguing the back holes of your supervisors. You've finally made it to the 5th floor. GS-12 Jack.
And then they assign you here. On a Saturday morning.