Snow Was Falling Like Confetti At The Devil's Parade

I just soiled myself.

And I am going to soil myself again.

I don't think you understand. My whole LIFE has led up to this moment.
My adolescence was spent playing Max Payne on repeat while listening to the soundtrack of the broadway musical 42nd Street through my stereo.
I used to synchronize my slow-motion dual barrette strafing to the music. And it was beautiful. Glorious. The blood being speckled across the wall like a Pollack painting on cocaine, but the only drug here was adrenaline, and it ran through my veins faster than a prostitute covered in fire ants.
Ope, there goes the soiling again.

I really should get that checked out.