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.
Works great on my child, who hasn't barked at all for as long as she's worn the apparatus. When she turns three, we will remove it for a trial period.
This lousy world just gets lousier every year as these stores put out their skeletons and Santas in summer.
Try not to break your console while I try not to break my cyber brain.
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