...and my streak is over.
As we speak, some car dealership's sales floor in the Pelican State is ringing this horribly cheezy death knell; I could have bolted early, but I happened to stay late for no reason whatsoever other than I promised to do my job. I always figured an automobile dealership was safe from such things, especially one in the Deep South; alas, the power of satellite radio found me. No mortal can hide from the power of those circling sentinels, beaming their vast depositories of 1980s music.
And so I shall walk in the Valley in the Whammed forever, fearing nothing else, but please...your rod and staff do not comfort me.