The Assumed Past of Mr. Stinkfag

I suppose everybody has a past, but it seems like some people live completely monotone lives. Their past equals their present, which equals their future.

I’d like to believe that his past and present and future are not one gray blob of matter in a wheel chair, but if you know me, you know that I’d like to believe in a lot of things. I’d like to believe in Santa. I’d like to believe that a stork brings all the babies. Notice any pattern? It’s all fantasy.

He really isn’t a bad guy; just very…persistent. This is just me, but if I needed a new razor, I would NOT go across the street to pound on the side of the house for 30 minutes. If I decided that I needed three bananas at 11 o’clock at night, I’d probably wait until morning to call my neighbor twelve times in a row.

My mom says it’s a waste of time making excuses for him. I agree, excuses are shields for the lazy. But until I wake up and smell the Titan Arum (look it up), I suppose I will keep on wasting my life, pondering the past of old Mr. Stinkfag.

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