I am telling you that I’m lying when I say that I broke my foot. In actuality, I sprained my ankle and it hurts. But guess what? I’m playing it off like it’s broke in half. The Urgent Care clinic made me buy a bulky ass boot which, despite not wanting or liking how hot it makes me, I’m going to wear it. I like the attention.
A guy at Home Depot asked me today what happened to my leg? “What’s with the boot,” he says. Oh wouldn’t he like to know. I told him that I was at home with his girlfriend and her husband came home and chased me over the railing of their third story balcony. It would’ve been funny, too, if he had a sense of humor and wasn’t such an intrusive f*ggot.
They gave me drugs. I like the way they make me feel when I get rich selling them to minors. I am going to carry on as if I am exceedingly hurt. And since no one I know is reading this right now or ever, that means that none of my friends can call me out on my fraud. Since they can’t call me out, they can kiss my ass…or my foot.
That black and blue you see is mascara, the swelling is botox
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