"the way i see it," you say, peeling a cut of mustachioed cardboard from the happy meal box, "i'm coming back WITH dinner, if old ronald knows what's good for him."
it isn't even that deep. the long and short of it is, you want something to talk about, and this is exactly the kind of bullshit to spin into a full on saga with your brother-dad-son-whatever in the parking lot of this mcdonald's.
you fold the two halves of a mustache with a stoic expression commonplace for a strider. as if it was ever not like that, which it totally isn't. "reparation stipend's deep for crushed toy dreams. i'm coming out with this case on behalf of all kids everywhere. i expect a deformed choke hazard power ranger in every toddler's hand by seven pm."
god. god will not help you, god does not help. god does not love you amadeus. god does not love, he can only use. he cares nothing for who he uses, nothing for who he denies
apparently ive been lowballing my height, i'm actually 5'9. i discovered this because briar made a joke about be being 80% leg so i had to measure and found out that my legs are 39 inches and my torso is 30 inches which means i am. 69 inches tall.