I Have a Crippling Fear of Being Crippled

I’m 27, still a long ways away from triple bypasses and deathbed harmonica solos, but that doesn't mean I don't think about death. Life passes pretty quickly, and soon enough I'll be dead. No more me. Cause of death: torso failure. I wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, have you seen this shit? What a torso! My rib cage is HUGE! You think you can touch my heart? Fat chance! It’s gonna take more than a screwdriver driven deep into my thoracic cavity to damage that shit, buddy.





…I’m terribly sorry for the harsh language and bravado. I don’t know what happened. Perhaps we can discuss it over drinks in my hotel room. No, I won’t try anything. I promise. We’ll have a blast! We'll drink teeny bottles of gin and read our favorite Bible passages. Then you’ll pass out from the drugs I drugged you with.





I’ll cast off my fake beard and get down to business. What’s that? You don't like being propped up in a chair and having hot chili thrown at your chest? Too bad. People who are asleep don’t have opinions.





...I'm a weirdo.