An Escape
My wife’s lack of vocabulary was paralyzing me. No bread. No wine. No heady aromas. No clench within my chest when humbled by her practicality or attempts at empathy ever occurred.
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My wife’s lack of vocabulary was paralyzing me. No bread. No wine. No heady aromas. No clench within my chest when humbled by her practicality or attempts at empathy ever occurred.
I was coming down off a serious high, and the police brought me into the drunk tank. It was a busy night and my howling while being raped by a female gorilla (yes, women rape other women) didn’t bring anyone to my rescue. Bruised and bloody in the morning and feeling sick the authorities discovered I was underage and with an abject apology tucked me into an upper scale dry-out clinic.
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