Time to Eat Your Words (21/30)
Scratch my balls, please.
You must excuse me, for I am stone. And I have this aching itch that I cannot scratch. Could you at least hit a tennis ball toward me, in the nether regions, or just drag a stick against me for a while, for I am without hands, and I have this predicament and I need your help. It seems God thinks I’m joking, but I’m not. Trust me…
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