I don’t wanna talk about my hang-gliding accident.
It’s a soar subject.
It’s a soar subject.
One of them said, “Let’s plan on getting a translator.” I said, “I’d rather find one sooner.”
I put my hand on their shoulder and said, “Look, I’ll always support you whether you choose to be a trans now or a trans later.”
I said, “Well, you tried your breast.”
“… that’s a salt and battery.”
The doctor said, “Yeah, for that you’re going to need to come in person.”
He said, “Exactly… we consider that aloe income.”
I said, “That’s good… just in case the first one breaks.”
He said, “Teacher said it’s pitcher day.”
She said, “Well, I was learning Braille recently, but I had to give it up.” I laughed. “What, because you realized you’re not actually blind?” She chuckled. “No, silly. Because I lost both my arms in a farming accident.”
The doctor said I had a percussion.
“I mean, just look at all the cymbals.”
Four years of pharmacy school. Four years of the same damn joke.
He said he didn’t know because he’s never been.
I said, “Hmm… show me a picture of Alice first.”
Now she’s pregnant.
…just in quesadilla.
I said, “Okay fine, but take it just in quesadilla.”
Then I realized I’d had a French roast.
And that’s when I realized our relationship was coming apart at the seems.