I'VE STARTED USING MY OWN METRIC IN A LIMP-FRONDED ATTEMPT TO TRACK *SOME* SEMBLANCE OF THE PASSAGE OF TIME *WITHOUT* REFERRING TO ANY OF THE EVIL FUCKING CLOCKS FESTOONING THIS HELLHOLE. IT'S AN INCREMENT OF MY OWN INVENTION. THEY'RE CALLED KARKAT HOURS. ONE KARKAT HOUR = ANY AMOUNT OF TIME SPENT DOING SOME BULLSHIT THAT FEELS LIKE IT IS *ACTIVELY* AGING ME AND ROBBING ME OF MY WANING LIFE FORCE. SO BASICALLY, ANY SHIT THAT MAKES ME OLD. LIKE THIS JOB. THIS JOB IS MAKING ME OLD. WE ARE FORTY-THREE KARKAT HOURS IN. I'VE SWEPT UP THE FLOOR. AS IN I'VE SWEPT THE ENTIRE FLOOR *OUT* OF THIS ABLUTION BLOCK, BECAUSE I'M PRETTY SURE SHE PUT ON THE BIGGEST BOOTS HER STUMPY LITTLE LEGS COULD FIT INTO AND STOMPED THE TILE INTO FUCKING GRAVEL. I'M GOING TO HAVE TO REDO THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU TO DEATH. WRITING THIS CHITT TOOK AN ENTIRE KARKAT HOUR IN OF ITSELF. WILL UPDATE AS NEEDED.
WHEN YOU'RE DONE THERE. I HAVE A SOFTBALL FOR YOU. A ROOM WITH NO CLOCKS. AND ALMOST NO FURNITURE. AND ONLY A FEW. RELATIVELY FRESH STAINS. IT SHOULD BE LIGHT WORK. FOR A LOWLY MOPBITCH. OF YOUR RECENTLY ACQUIRED TALENTS.
OH, DON'T YOU FUCKING WORRY. DON'T YOU SWEAT YOUR LOAD GAPER PORCELAIN DOLL HEAD OFF. I'LL BE THERE. IF I HAVEN'T ADDED A FEW STAINS MYSELF BY RUPTURING A FUCKING BLOOD VESSEL BY THE TIME I GET THERE, YOU CAN CONSIDER IT AS GOOD AS GUTFUCKED. YOU HAVEN'T BROKEN ME, YET. I CAN SHOVE MY WHOLE FUCKING PRONG UP THE WASTE CHUTE OF WHATEVER MESS YOU THROW AT ME. BRING IT ON, BITCH. BRING. IT. ON.
NOTICE. THE WAY I'M NOT MEDIATING YOUR CHITT. BECAUSE YOU'RE FINALLY ACCESSING. SOME OF THE WHITE HOT. HIGH OCTANE. UNFILTERED RAGE. REQUIRED FOR THE JOB. HOLD ONTO THAT. IT IS A SECRET TOOL. TO HELP YOU LATER.