Sunday 19 April 2015

Thillineth

"Thsufferin Thuccotash!"- Sylvester the Cat.

(You need to read thith with a lithp…tongue between teeth, pleathe…)

There’th a thcar upon my lip, and it cautheth me to thlip, tho that thometimeth- I jutht thpit when I try to thay an “eth”...
…it’th a thticky, tricky issue, and I’m  running out of tishueth, wiping thpittle ath it drencheth, kitchen tableth, wiping bencheth, washing windowth, thpraying wencheth -
...oh, it’th a nightmare on a date, when I get into a thtate and form a puddle on my plate, jutht to thay "you look thenthational"- ith quite demotivational- your dreth, your thkirt, your blouthe, your shirt- thimply everything you wear, from your thcrunchy to your thox, and your shiny, thilken lockth driveth my heart into a rathe, and thaliva from my fathe, til I find mythelf dithgrathed and if I do not thettle down, I'm afraid of who might drown, ath I thplutter bout your gown like thome thycophantic clown…
…there’th a therapitht I thee, who thaid to thome degree that “it really could be worthe”, which I think ith jutht perverthe- I’m not convinthed he really careth (he’th put plathtic on hith chairth) and ath he plumbth thubconsciouth fearth of my teen and childhood yearth, (in a raincoat which he wearth) theeking preshureth from my peerth - I shower him with thtorieth, cheekth foaming, reminithcing, thpitting out about what’th miththing, thome thort of thorry thnakely hithing, like a tap without a washer, dripping in a bathroom think, and it cautheth me to think, that I’d really like a drink... but I thtutter on folorn, like a thprinkler on the lawn, while he pretendth to care, thtaring dumbly at the air, shining dropletth in hith hair…
…until I thtand to leave, with my heart up my thleeve and a little thpittle too, and a bit upon my shoe, he thinkth “thank goodneth I’m not you”, rubbing thalt into the wound with a bill that’th thimply thtunning, it’th exthtortion that he’th running- but I’m exhauthted tho, I jutht pay the man and go…
… now you’ve heard my thtory, and I really wouldn’t worry, there’th no reathon to be thorry, no hugth, no “there, there, honey”, no donationth, (pleathe no money)…cauthe it’th really very funny…

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