This could be dangerous
2 years ago
My sweet boyfriend recently punctured my hand with the nozzle of a Redi-Whip can while trying to incite a mini-food fight.
Although completely unprovoked and unarmed, I, with the reflexes of a panther, swatted the can away just in time to deflect a spray of greasy, white cream. Unfortunately, the porcelain flesh of my soft hand still bears the scar of this cruel and bloody battle (I’m thinking it resembles a stigmata and the final proof needed to deem me the next Saviour).
It’s also proof that his damn ass need not fall asleep before me. I’ve got a jar of Cheez Whiz, a tub of outdated mayonnaise and a bottle of ketchup with his name on it (this retaliatory strike will occur in his bed, not mine).
Sleep afraid dear man, sleep afraid.
