Salmonella for the Soul (a lifetime of perfection)

Salutations! (said like Charlotte) I hope this finds you high on the hog or on a horse, depending on if you're creating-a-friend or building-a-bear, kids jokes, all. Kids games, too, but played by played-out adults, or those so legally called, pitching conniptions; sooo bullshit, I call. And even as adults, there are some games still that are still fun to play, like swallow the stick or bury the bone or other euphemisms. One of my favorites is that one where you hiss, "Shut up. Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" through that set-steeled jaw look that you adopt when you are supporting your weight with your left hand on the headboard and with your right palm flat against my turned cheek. Much sexier than it sounds, by far. But I'm not here to sell it -- it sells itself; and I'm getting hard just remembering it. I suppose I could've written about the transcendental afterburn but I am one tracked, almost always, and if you can't get what you want, you can significantly soften the crush by changing the way you think of things; or remembering what it felt like before you wanted it. So, tell me, what is your idea of hilarious? And is your heart lined with lead? Because I know that most people don't talk the way that I do but I will not be sorry for it, not ever, for hanging on by a thread or a butt crack.