I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons! Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! With lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!
Beancounter said I couldn't fire a man just for being in a wheelchair - did it anyway, ramps are expensive.
In case you're interested, there's still some positions available for that bonus opportunity I mentioned earlier. Again, all you've got to do is let us disassemble you; we're not banging rocks together here, we know how to put a man back together. So, that's a complete reassembly, new vitals, spit-shine on the old ones, plus we're scooping out tumors. Frankly, you ought to be paying us.
If you need to go the bathroom in this next series of tests, please let test associates know, because in all likelihood whatever comes out of you is going to be coal. Only temporary, so do not worry. If it persists for a week though, start worrying and come see us, because that's not supposed to happen.
Alright this next test may involve trace amounts of time travel. So word of advice: if you meet yourself on the testing track don't make eye contact. Lab boys tell me that'll wipe out time - entirely. Forward and backward. So do both of yourselves a favor and let that handsome devil go about his business.