Monday, August 13I Am On The Verge Of A Deathly Death.
It calls to me. That sweet blinding light, the end of it all. Respite at last in this world of hurt – respite from all the pain...
Oh screw it. Who’ma kidding. I'm not dying, I’m just being a boy.
When you’re a boy, you sometimes get sick.* And when boys get sick, there is nothing in this world that is sadder, more pathetic and more in need of some good ol’ fashioned TLC.
And I am sick.
Which means I am feeling sad, pathetic, and in serious need of some gool ol’ fashioned TLC.
I can’t even work up the energy to tell you all what I learned this weekend, about dating, girls, and hermaphrodites. Not necessarily in that order though, on account of them all involving the same person.
I’m going to the chemist. Wish me luck – I’m a dependant on Discovery.
Sad face.
- Crayola dude.
*You know, from saving puppies from burning buildings and long shifts working at the Red Cross helping sick children. Call me anytime, ladies.**
**Not today though. I'm cranky.
7 comments:
Aw, shame, he has the flu! Call the paramedics! Get the fire engine out!
Kidding.
So you snotted all over a haemaphrodite this weekend?
Prolly why u not feeling so hot today, Crayola.
Poor dear. Have you considered leeches?
oh, whine whine whine. Suck it up, soldier! drop 'n give me fifty!....okay, fine here's a hug:
(( ))
...so now tell us about the hermaphrodite, dude.
I haven't. I refuse to use any medical techniques that involve water.
Fish fuck in it, you know.
whoa, I'm crankier than I thought.
Oh I will, bete. I just need to investigate one or two things first, and get all my ducks in a row, metaphorically speaking.
There there, poppet. Here's a cool compress and me in a nurse's uniform.
Phwoar. I need to get sick more often...
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