I wish I could escape my own harsh, nasty words. The snide remarks, the gossip, the dark humor. I curse my inability to use big words. My tiny one syllable words are embarrassing.
Words. In a strange bathroom stall you encounter a request to engage in a certain act with a sea horse. Too many words attacking my laptop. A sale on fishnet stockings? How did they know?
Announcements on NY subways that sound like they were recorded inside a bowl of soup. Toddlers begin with the questions on everything. Parents sob in frustration.
We need quotas, especially on politicians.
I will never yell fire in a crowded theater. Patrons would be too busy yakking away to hear anyway.
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