"Let me guess," the man said, staring at the pool of his own blood he was leaving on the ground. "Just had the carpet cleaned?" "Replaced, actually," I replied, strutting towards him confidently. "From the last time someone came in and poured their blood on my floor."
I mutter this under my breath at least a hundred times a day. And I really am praying when I say this. Though I know that patience isn't an attribute He's chosen to bless me with, so the untraceable handgun is looking more likely. But then again, I'd have to decide who I'd like to shoot first. Probably myself.