Now, you'll level with your pretend-audience here: all these shifts spent on your lonesome have given you some much needed thinking time. You've been self-reflecting, pondering, introspecting. Not a whole lot of other things to do while you pick up trash. The point is, you regret a lot of things.

Which is to say you regret ever having been caught, and this is the most regrettable situation you've found yourself in over the course of your many life cycles. Disgusting. The foul stench of your fuming, both literal and metaphorical, leaves a bitter aroma in your nostrils.

You used to own this joint. You used to own every single name and face IN this joint. And you are so very angry. Nay, SEETHING.

This is not a statement you make lightly. You really aren't one for emotional theatrics (unless it involves a DAMN good Broadway number).

What you wouldn't give for a snazzy suit and a couple show tunes right about now.