If I said when I move I’m not going to find a job to focus on my company, would that be terribly insane?
Suddenly, there is a great rumbling.
Over hill, over dale, through forest, through fog, they come. Some walk. Some fly. Some crawl. Some simply move deep within the bowels of the earth. They are massive in number, terrifying in their fury. They blot out the sun from the grass below. They nearly shake the earth from orbit with their rage.
They are the English majors.
They give a fuck about an Oxford comma.