You know; you wake up in the morning and seven ninjas leap from the shadows and throw pies in your face. That sort of day. It doesn’t get any better from there either. You go to the bathroom and find another group of pie-flinging ninjas waiting for you. You have to soldier on, but damn, where are all these ninjas coming from? Where did they get all of these pies? Why is this happening to me? How many puppies did I maim in a past life to get to this moment?

The day goes on and you have to at least try to get on with your routine, but you really can’t. The ninjas are always there with their infinite pies ready to pounce on you at any second. It’s a constant bombardment of disappointment at all times and you’re stuck right in the sticky center — but you have to keep going. Those pie precipitating pieces of poo have to move along eventually. Time heals all wounds, and whatever. 

Time won’t get that pie out of the carpet though, you might want to pick that up before it starts to soak in.