Since I bin away, I added another year to my ever-expanding number. I decided to make B-day uneventful, refused to tell anyone about it, lest they ask the dreaded question. You know the one, “how old are you today?” just in case I had to lie about it in the near future (which I will) and someone put me on the spot about that one.
As if that was not bad enuff, I almost played THE trampcard. Yes. I almost died from a strange burning sensation in my stomach, which left me crawling around the house like a zombie when I needed to get around. My sister had a good laugh on that one. She called it “God’s mysterious ways” because I had refused to give her MY new wallet. My sharp mouth could not get me out of that one. So there, lying on the floor, panting like a fool, I gave my soul to Christ and hoped he would accept me when in about 5minutes my time came. It didn’t. Obviously.
Today, my woes are not yet over, may just play that trampcard after all. There is a burning sensation (like the sound of it) in my chest even if I have never touched a cigarette in my life. And contrary to what some of my colleagues say, it has nothing to do with the weight of the man I am supposedly carrying on top of me when they are not watching. Nosy bastards the whole lot.
1 loungers burdening me:
And you came back to tell this story. I so have to work on my witchcrafty.
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