Me: Man, I'm BORED. There's nothing to do.
Work Ethic: Well you could...oh wait.
Me: Exactly. No rooms open.
Inner Child: Well, we could always play dress-up! You have towels and toilet paper. You could be T.P. Towelman, modest hotel worker by day, The Toweled Lad by night!
Self-Loathing: Because THAT wouldn't look gay...
Internal Sadist: No, no. I think he's onto something. Just call yourself The White Supremacister instead!
Reckless Endangerment: Then run down Martin Luther King Boulevard in Atlanta!
Me: Oh, THAT'S wise.
Anxiety: That might get us a stern talking-to.
Pragmatism: Yeah, from a Glock or twelve.
Libido: Well, you could always...
Me: I'm not masturbating in the staff bathroom.
Libido: Oh you're no fun.
Kleptomania: Massive toilet paper theft?
Inner Child: We could make a fort!
Me: Well that fort at OU WAS pretty fun...
Paranoia: If you build a fort, the government will try to take us down! I don't want to die in a hail of burning gunfire!
Self-Loathing: Better than rotting away from the inside out.
Kleptomania: So we steal a nuke. No biggie.
Megalomania: Annex Columbia!
Me: When the hell did YOU show up?
Megalomania: Oh, senior year or so. You just ignore me usually.
Anxiety: Thank God for small favors.
Latent Psychopathy: No matter what I suggest, you won't listen to MY ideas.
Me: Good, you're learning.
Work Ethic: A room's open! Go! Go! Go!
Me: Alright, alright. There, it's done. Happy now?
Work Ethic: For now. Now, what to do, what to do?
Pervert: I suppose playing "Age Russian Roulette" is out of the question.
Me: I'm really afraid to ask.
Pervert: See, the young workers' vaginas are the chamber and the rounds are...
Me: I got it, I got it.
Pervert: And you "pull the trigger" to see which one you "impregnate"...oh wait, I messed that up.
Me: Yeah, no dice.
Libido: I told you he's no fun.
Pervert: It never hurts to ask.
Work Ethic: Room! Room!
Me: Are you going to freakin' do this all day?
Work Ethic: Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe fuck yourself.
Me: Oh, thanks, Mr. Wahlberg. Ugh.
Inner Child: Whee! This vacuum is really powerful!
Pervert: Yeah, it sucks just like...
Me: Just don't.
Bitchy Ex-Boyfriend Mode: So did you see Ellen got ugly? That totally rocks.
Me: I had noticed, yes.
Glutton: Yay! Break time! Chocolate muffins!
Work Ethic: But...but...the room...
Me: It can wait.
Writer: So I heard that someone might actually want to make these brain pukes into a show.
Anxiety: Shush! Don't make this meta, you asshole!
Ego: Hey, you might actually get something done and produced for once.
Me: Hey now. I can finish something.
Self-Loathing: Oh yeah. Like Stainless Steele, Lost and Damned, the PSA series...
Me: Point made.
Self-Loathing: Shattered, Second Screen Productions, Bookworm...
Me: I said point fucking made! LAY OFF!
Pervert: Hmm, that one girl makes bitchiness and statutory rape so very tempting.
Self-Loathing: Yes, but you seem like you creep her out.
Anxiety: WHat? Oh man, we can't do that. We need readers!
Me: She doesn't read this! She doesn't even know my name!
Vocal Irony: The coldest blood runs through my veins...
Music Freak: Chris Cornell. You should listen to that on your iPOD.
Paranoia: Do you really want to do the iPod after last THE TOASTER JUST HISSED AT ME!
Me: What?
OCD: THE DRAPES! THE DRAPES! THE DRAPES ARE ON FIRE!
Vocal Irony: We don't need no water, let the...
Me: No they aren't!
Fashion Sense: Those boxers totally clash with your skin tone. Take them off.
Pragmatism: Indecent exposure. Even worse, one of the women might take that as an offering.
All: Blargh!
Me: Ugh, this is why I drink.
Budding Alcoholism: And I thank you for it, good sir!
Me: *rubs eyes and groans*
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