Up until that moment he thought he'd seen himself through the worst of his days; in the rear-view mirror of his life, strewn throughout the ditches in time, in the collected pockets found in the deepest valleys of his life, were a few soul crushing days that he always assumed, would, in his final moments , when he was told his life would flash before his eyes,be a great time to go get popcorn and maybe stretch the legs a little.
It was a hopeless day that ground into your skull like a rusty, 747 full of babies and shifty looking Pakistani tribesmen . A day that made him think he might skip that pre-game show altogether. A day, he realized, he'd rather get mauled by sharks than live through that moment again. If he found the sharks to be uninterested in his bony container of skin and futile struggle, he'd even consider watching something Doug Benson made, anything. Just so long as he didn't have to begin the afterlife reliving any of that bullshit again.
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