You snap and scream at him.
I WANT A JOB!!! AND I CAN’T FUCKING GET ONE IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME A LITTLE TO GET OFF MY FUCKING FEET!!! I JUST NEED SOME MONEY SO I CAN GET TO A BETTER MENTAL PLACE, TREAT MYSELF A LITTLE BIT AND THEN I’LL FEEL BETTER ENOUGH TO GET A FUCKING JOB, ‘CUZ RIGHT NOW I’M TOO FUCKING DEPRESSED TO DO ANYTHING, OKAY??? SO JUST GIVE ME THE FUCKING MONEY ALREADY!!!
Your head is pounding. You want to fucking gut this Nazi right here on the fucking street for everyone to fucking see. But you need to stay cool, ‘cuz Cobbert’s here. Gotta stay cool in front of Cobbert. If Cobbert weren’t here you’d paint the fucking walls with his brains though. You fucking would.
Remembering your breathing exercises from your therapy, you calm yourself.
Okay, okay, look. I’ll do some work for you, okay? Then you can fucking pay me. I’ll wash your car, how about that? Okay?
You fish your handkerchief out of your coat pocket. Was it always this shade of brown? You remember it being white at some point. Whatever.
Before he can respond, you rush off to his car and begin maniacally rubbing the windshield with the rag. Cobbert tags along, leaning against a metal beam.
