The ambulance driver is kind. He tells you everything is going to be alright.
The doctor is kind. She tells you everything is going to be alright.
The nurses are kind. They tell you everything is going to be alright.
Your mom is kind. She tells you that she told you to never move to that part of town.
You're released and try your best to get on with life. You apply for new freelance work. You show strangers your wound and get them to kiss you. It seems like everything is sliding back into place. And then the bill arrives. It's worse than the stabbing. It's, like, three times your gross domestic earning. Selling assignments is never going to pay for this thing, it's time to start selling your ass or something. Wow. You're doomed.
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
Can't tell a drinking fountain from a urinal? We've got you covered. Brush up on your drinking fountain enthusiast -- or sipper -- vocabulary and learn to talk and swap sips with the best of them.
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