[kahljorn]

I almost wrote some flimsy mother goose like poem to essentuate that, but then I realized I was too bored. And my fingers itch. but not my actual fingers. The place at the joints, near the palms, where those hard skin things grow. it starts with a C. I'm trying to think of it. Oh yea, Callouses. My callouses itch. Damnit.

THE MOCKY MOCKS WERE ALL WARM AND FUZZY BY THE WARM FIRE SHARING STORIES AND SIPPING BRANDY, WHEN ALONG CAME A SPIDER AND SAT DOWN BESIDE THEM AND WAS ALL YO, GIVE ME SOME CHOCOLATE BITCHES THEN A HEN ATE THE SPIDER AND NOBODY EVER KNEW BECAUSE SPIDERS AND HENS CANT FUCKING TALK. Touch touch, the itsy bitsy mockers went up the tree to fetch a pale of water, then the mockers all fell down and the crib thing came tumbling after! out of a tree and somebody cried. They were KISSING-ing in the tree. Don't forget that. DONT FORGET. Forget. Nobody's going to respond to this insanity.

My thigh itches now.