Quittin' time. It's almost here.
That wonderful time of the week when working-age adults turn into antsy little boys and girls again. Staring at the clock. Waiting, waiting, waiting...
No force of nature or act of God could keep me from staying here one minute longer than absolutely necessary today.
Avoid your boss like the plague. Find something to look busy. Watch that clock.
Won't be long now. I can almost taste it.
Set 'em up Joe, and play Walkin' the Floor.
Come on. Hurry up.
Tic
Toc
Tic
Toc
Tic
Toc
TIC
fuckin'
TOC.
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