More serious text. No jokes.
Shirley told me we were in for a bit of a change, but I reckon that little ball of screams didn’t know no better. Weren’t nothing to do except love it until it hates you, and all the while saving up for college tuition, all so it can load up on threesomes for four years and major in transgender studies, with a minor in eating your dreams. And every year a new reminder, another “Happy Birthday!” you say, though you can’t possibly mean it.
