I'm done my paper! Hallelujah! I hope to never think about the topic again.
Kjersti, the epic poem re: snails and the ends of the world was written during a short stint in the local asylum. In order to protect my works from the nurses (who were going to steal my ideas) I had to eat the manuscript as I wrote it. Write a line, eat a line, write a line, eat a line. This wreaked havoc on my digestion but seemed to be a successful means of protecting my intellectual property. Unfortunately I've now forgotten most of the poem. It was brilliant, though. Brilliant.
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Oh Amy, this is horrible...I'm turning into my dad...my first instinct was to laugh and reply "So you ate your own words then?"
Pitiful, I know. It doesn't even deserve a groan, or any other type of acknowledgment. I've just committed humor suicide.n
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