man down

all these little flying bugs must go!

i want to read fairytales + get strawberries all over my face.

not have lotion between my thighs + worry about tiny winged creatures suicide bombing my midnight thirst quencher. 

aka my glass of water.

[bastards]

i don't feel their subsequent death at the hands of gluttony is quite enough for what they are doing to me.

they deserve some exile from liquids or a firmly put time out.

what if they are riddled w/ some exotic disease that i will catch + then give to all my friends + family?

what if they are the precursor to the new plague?

side note: does blogger no longer believe in PLURALS?

---------->because it is loath to allow any of mine tonight

i can't help but make up dialog as they swarm:

g: sir, i can see the homestretch! it is w/in reach! 

s: gerald. you are an idiot. can't you see we must descend more discretely if we are to escape the wrath of the giant finger?

g: sir, i apologize. what would you suggest sir? shall we circumvent the finger's natural path by way of the lamp?

s: why gerald, i think you're coming round to reason! ha! let's give it a whirl!

g: ah sir, it seems to be work[SMOOSH]

s: GERALD! NOOOOO!!! 

i now feel somewhat vindicated.

thankyou.

xo.