Mr. Strider, have you considered that what you actually dread is to have your urban rhythms exposed for what they truly are, which is, clinically speaking, just shy of ‘da bomb’?

I’ve done nothing but wait for boys to play this game with me all day. First John lollygagging with the client, and then you with the server, downright filibustering my existence with unending fraternal melee. And yet a girl, one who didn’t even own the game, was able to connect with you minutes after you connected with me.

Listening to you conjure imagery of my mother in her underpants is definitely keeping us buoyed high above this swirling Freudian hellhole.