Whenever I saw Mabel, Mabel remembered me and for ironic reasons, could not stop spying. I'm a detective. At least I am, no cases pending or best thing to do, that self-destruct to see my baby with that damn ballet instructor.
So after much reflection, I found the solution in the bottle and a razor sharp Mabel gave me. And no, I thought killing myself, my eggs were not made for that. Only going to get rid of this pain. I stuck to the bottle like a leech and left half open. The alcohol hit up my brain and staggered into the bathroom, I got my pants, grabbed my balls with his left hand and the knife with the right, and I introduced them: from now on, everyone will be on your own.
Freud was right, life used to fit the turnip and vaginas little hook you like that. I closed my eyes, I thought Mabel, my teeth ... and threw the knife out the window. I heard a cry in the street. I got the pants back to the room, I hit the bottle again and not remember what else. When I awoke, my eggs were still there.
0 comments:
Post a Comment