The violent screech of my Darude Sandstorm alarm clock forces me to an upright position in bed. Cheeto dust sprinkled over the entire room and the scent of body odor lingers delicately. I reach over to silence the alarm and I accidentally knock my fedora to the ground, a shameful position. I trudge over to my hacking station (Acer laptop with windows 8) and note that stains from last night's McDonalds raid still cover most of my clothing. The portrait of Pinkie Pie is hardly visible at this point. As I ensconced myself upon my throne of telecommunication, I peered through my ejaculate stained window to the active world below. All the plebeians that slogged away at wage based employment, never knowing that I had transcended to a state of existence their futile minds could hardly begin to even comprehend. As tears filled in my eyes, waiting to burst, I whispered softly to myself, "nice guys finish last..."