Thursday, March 1, 2012

My father used to sing me a poem as a child...

In the days of old,
when nights were cold,
and the toilet wasn't invented,
they laid their loads,
upon the roads,
and walked away contented...

Perhaps this is a clue as to why I turned out to be so weird? Well, that and my mother was a dispenser... But you all knew this truth already.

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