So one day, I accidentally cut my finger and blood started oozing out, and dripping on the floor. Like always, my polite housekeeper asked, “Sir, can I finish your leftovers”?
My flaw of bad teeth made me a hermit hiding out in the ice house and then before I knew it came the end of the really human wold with poison death.
I did find Wanda in the woman’s prison, but you can’t call it love when someone is so very terrified of your teeth they sometimes wet their pants.
She sits there on the couch, clutching on the phone and her eyes darting around in terror while she stumbles in her words to whoever she was talking at the other end of the line. It doesn’t matter; she will let me in one or another.
I texted my daughter to ask her exactly where I was supposed to pick her up. Just as I hit “send” she bounced off my hood, crashed through my windshield and landed lifeless in my lap.