
Don’t you lecture me, blue-box man, flying through time and space on whimsy. All I’ve got, all I’ve had, for 36 years, is cold, hard reality. So, no, I don’t have a sonic screwdriver, because I’m not off on a romp. I call it what it is, a probe, and I call my life what it is… hell.
Don’t you lecture me, blue-box man, flying through time and space on whimsy. All I’ve got, all I’ve had, for 36 years,...