Urgent. Will die without reading.
- 15:42 ITS JUST RAIN! DRIVE, YOU FUCKSTICKS. Where’s the shotgun when I need it. #
- 16:51 when it’s raining, the only styling I should do to my hair is covering it with a bag. #
- 17:09 Kim just bought me a vegetable roll bc I have no cash. My translation: she’s going to miss being my boss. #
- 19:03 Wish I had thought to steal Ian Curtis’s gravestone. #
- 22:30 My boss burnt her popcorn and now i’m reaping the rewards. #
- 12:43 Henry said I’ve become a little more tolerable. Whatever that means. #
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Henry says that Chooch looks like the spitting image of me in this picture, which I can’t really deny as I can generally be found mid-whine as well.
Lately, Chooch has been into treating us with quite the histrionic performances. He’ll launch himself into full-body agita, make a sad little ‘o’ with his angry lips, and channel all the drama greats to achieve the most believable cry of desperation. After a minute or two or being ignored, he’ll rub his eyes, and in a cheerful baby-voice, he’ll declare, "I cryin’!"
And then he’ll laugh.
That’s the best case scenario. Worst case is that he turns into a tornado and starts kicking furniture and swiping things off the coffee table like a human wrecking ball. Then Henry will ask, in mock wonderment, "Wow, I wonder where he learned that?" and then shoot a paralyzing glare at my head.
The other day, Chooch and I were in my bedroom. He was at the foot of my bed when he started exclaiming "Kids!" He was pointing into his bedroom. "Kids, kids, kids!"
I didn’t know what he could have been looking at that had kids on it, so I said, "No, Chooch. No kids."
Frustrated, he got up and ran into his room, where he pointed at the center of the floor and declared, "KIDS. Hahaha, kids!" At this point, I’m standing in the doorway of his room, heartrate accelerated, praying that some ghost child isn’t going to bite my ankle and shove a crucifix in my crotch.
Chooch was still standing there, pointing, looking all excited to have found invisible children in his room. I was afraid that if I entered the room, the door would slam and lock behind me and blood would start pouring from the walls like a waterfall from Hell, so I tugged him on the arm and said, "Hey, let’s go downstairs now, hooray."
I had just watched The Orphanage two days prior to this. Bad timing, Chooch.No tags for this post.