Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

Have you ever woken up at 4:08am with an empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a beard full of jam and cream cheese in the other? Not actually two hands, but two perplexing things to deal with at the same time—like a fistful of peanut butter and a swarm of enraged bees circling overhead. The more you swat, the angrier and more coated in peanut butter the bees and things get.

Yeah. Me either. Except for days that are yester.

Weak! What a weak ending! It’s like I got to the end of the sentence and said, “Yeah, good enough.” Lazy! Readers deserve better!

Yielding to the impulse of the moment, I pushed him under the wheels of a trolley-car and ran.

Stephen Leacock, Borrowing a Match

Mr. Tong warned me about this lazy writing style of mine in the eighth grade, so I poisoned him.


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