I stare at the screen. Reading, rereading, what Ty has written. My sleep-deprived brain attempts to process that these words, these precise words, were sent across miles of phone lines, fiber optics, and servers that make up the internet.
“James,
I apologize, we are unable to complete the asinine task by your bedtime...”
Shaking my head, I consider how to rectify my email, informing our manager that the assigned task will not be completed by his deadline.
Meanwhile, in some hidden corner of the internet, Ty Poe and his cousin, Otto, high five each other for creating this ducking mess.