I'm so glad to be 18, part 2

When I'm 18, I finally have the opportunity to bloody my knuckles giving that woman what she deserves.



And I can, um, hang myself with the dual nooses of, er, drugs and narcotics? Shirtless? Seriously, what IS that?



Trying to get a job, I think, will be somewhat difficult. Especially if I'm looking for a job involving antique typewriters.



Not only can I take out my frustration on my spouse, but I can also send slugs of lead at high velocities through panes of glass! Just what I've always dreamed of doing!



Moving into a half-victorian, half-soviet-bloc apartment like this has never been high on my list of priorities, but I guess I'll find time to do it once I turn 18.



Aww. After I've been divorced for several pages, I can finally get married. And sloppily sew a heart onto my shirtsleeve. Because I wear my heart on my sleeve. Get it?



To be continued yet again...