Now I recognize this strange feeling I've been sensing. It's my dog learning.

People talk a lot about hell freezing over. A lot of people don't know this, but in Dante's Inferno, the deepest level of hell, reserved for the worst traitors to humanity, is covered in ice. The money I made at my old job was the coldest money I'd ever earned. Death, like cashing out, the card pops out from the slot and it's over, now it's someone else's turn. Your whole life stuck in the bread line, the rations getting more meager every year.