So, an Italian, an Arab, and an American walk into a therapists office and all agree that I use comedy as a coping mechanism.
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Me to bae: I’m thirsty daddy
My PTSD: Hi thirsty, I’m dad!
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Cheating
“I can’t do this anymore.”
She let her chest rise and fall once more, before neatly pushing her chair from the table, standing up, and shadowing over me.
“What, you’re just going to throw in the towel that easy?”
She had hinted at it before, but I had never listened.
Within a momentary train of thought, she was gone.
Following the gut-wrenching silence of her absence, I heard a familiar voice.
“Dude, we’re fucked. She was the only one who could count cards.”
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The Descriptors of God
All-seeing, like the top of a ferris wheel.
Unpredictable, like the moment before a roller coaster drops.
Magical, like the look on a sticky child’s face when they win a stuffed animal.
Unfair, like how much you paid for that kid to squirt a water gun at a plastic duck.
Allowed a 14 year old girl to fall between the gap of two coaster cars and become paralyzed.
Also allowed 2 people to get stuck on the poltergeist ride for 2 hours.
Is actually the 6 Flags Fiesta Texas.
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This Little Piggy
This little piggy went to market.
This little piggy stayed home.
The first little piggy worked all day,
now through the fruit and veg it will roam.
The first little piggy can’t help it,
when it flirts while it’s away.
Though, it knows this is a sinful lie,
and excuse for it to stray.
The first little piggy feels pressure,
it can’t afford another session.
But the second piggy needs it,
to help its crippling depression.
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