Friday, December 16, 2011

Dear Cracked

Why did you eat four hours of my life? Surely my life doesn't taste that good. I would assume it's kind of on the chewy side with an unrewarding bland taste and a small lump of what could possibly be meat paste now cradled ever so comfortably in the crown of your tooth. Knowing the sad reality that my life is unsavory, I must ask that you kindly stop inviting yourself over for dinner. You make pleasant conversation, but there are some nights where I just have shit to do.

Yours truly,