I'm Henry the Eight, I am. Henry the Eight I am, I am. Almost there, baby. Almost there. I got married to the widow next door. Come on. Sooo clooose. She's been married seven times before. Who's the man? Sisyphus is the man. And everyone was a Henry. Henry. Fuck yeah! She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam. I'm her eighth old man. I'm SISYPHUS. Sisyphus the boulder-roller-to-the-TOP-of-the-mountain I am. Goddamn right I am! Sisyphus the boulder-roller….NO! SON-OF-A…CRAP! CRAP! CRAP! CRAP! CRAP!
That's it! I'm done! I'm completely, totally friggin' done! I really mean it this time. I really do. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me seven million, three hundred forty two thousand, eight hundred and two times, shame on me. But that's it, world. Who has two thumbs and won't be taken for a sucker anymore. THIS GUY. You hear me down there. Huh? Don't let the boulder roll over your ass on the way down.
I've wasted a big chunk of my life with this boulder rolling shit. Maybe the damn thing slipping out of my hands was the best thing to ever happen to me. Maybe I needed to get to this point to realize the boulder just isn't destined to see the top. Finally, I feel like I got some perspective. Come to think of it, I don't even know what I'd do if I ever made it to the top. Pat myself on the shoulder and hike all the way back down to the valley to see the old lady and bambino? Maybe check to see if my bowling team still needs a forth guy?
I'm better than this. Any schmuck can roll a boulder. I might as well have been flipping a burger that never cooks, or fetching stray shopping carts in a parking lot that never ends. I'm capable of so much more. Back when I was just another neighborhood kid flicking pebbles for kicks they told me I could do anything if I put my mind to it. Next thing I know my booze-fueled teenage rock flinging years are behind me and I wake up with this shitty boulder rolling gig. Every day, nine to five, plus the occasional weekend shift. Punch in…roll…chase…roll…punch out. If only I knew back then...
Christ. Look at me now. What do I got to show for it all? Huh? A chronic backache and a Wikipedia page.
It's time Sisyphus pulls up his sandal straps and gets crackin' on a brand new career…a brand new life…a brand new exciting and uncharted future where anything is possible. Duff's Technical Institute, here I come.