To dress up as Loki and attend John Watson’s Christmas party, Boss.
Just know that I’m not bailing your sorry ass out of trouble.
I am not stuffing your stocking with explosives again. Last year you lit on it on fire five days before Christmas. It wasn’t amusing, you asshole.
Doesn’t mean I need you singing ‘Gay Pirates’ at me every time you see me. We’re the only two people in this flat. And neither of us are pirates.
if you show up half way through and ask me to kill someone for you.
I will make you into shoes.
You’re a particular asshole. But I am not cutting the crusts of your sandwiches and making them into little people that you can elaborately kill with the table settings. No matter how bored you are, and no matter many new rifles you offer to buy me.
Although honestly it wasn’t really that funny to begin with, you twat.
Just because you have tabs on the entire city does not mean you are allowed to text me your coffee order every time I pass a Starbucks.
For the love of god, I was out of town killing people for you.
How does this give you permission to have your goons rearrange all my furniture? Tell them to put it back before I crush their kneecaps with my rifle. And make them unglue my bed from the ceiling, while you’re at it.