On losing mine employment
Oh great are the sorrows on my mind, many are the offshore consultants which harangue me. Heavy lies the thought of that fateful day whence I perchance receive that letter reading, 'thou hast been terminated mine lowly plebian.' No longer having gratuitous coconut water nor shiny macbook, I shalt appear as a blind crackhead leaning upon a staff, no longer having mine Roman citizenship. Charging a crusty thinkpad upon a subway platform will I be, my accursed fate be solving leetcode problems forevermore. Many nights shall I wander the streets, seeking the finest herbs of the field, lighting mine pipe be mine only comfort. Oh if only I couldst spake a paltry phrase of Chinese, with which to perchance request mine 300 dollar keyboard left atop my desk. Alas, mine only hope for vocation be peddling counterfeit herb upon young scholars, and seeking upon a wealthy patron to finance mine urban poetry. Peddling and rhyming upon the streets shall mine fate be forevermore, oh how sorrowful be the day whence I lose mine employment.
A gentleman, Clive T.Baccos-moker