You'll never guess how miserable I was at that moment, with
the knife in my left hand and splinters in my mind spinning
round and round. Can you turn off the broken street light?
The flickering makes me ill. Maybe I should get this over
with and go home, eat something and have a long relaxing
shower. What is this creature doing in my bed? Make it go
away and never come back; I never wanna see his little eyes
that can barely be seen in this darkness. And if I may, tell
him to take the other creature from under my desk, with his
long nose and sharp teeth, and if they'd kill each other -
it would be the best. If they'll kill me I'll come alive and
kill them and live happily ever after, and if they're me
then I should kill myself, it will make them go away for
sure, neither with or without a knife in my left hand.