Well … we’ve moved into Day 4 (or is it Day 5) and Harold seems content to be inhabiting my insides … although he is more like a f*cking little squatter than a taxpaying resident. I’m just hoping that he is bored and eventually he will leave for greener pastures … I’m hoping … hoping … hope.
I’m not desperate yet so I haven’t resorted to the begging and pleading, but the little bastard does have me a little worried. The last thing I need would be for him to take a permanent residence on Pancreas Lane. I will say that he seems to be content sitting on his ass at the moment not really doing all that much, but like anything unwelcome or out of place, you just know/feel that it’s there.
Anyways … it’s Day 4 … I’m hoping a couple of more scalding baths of hot chicken soup and other non fatty items will turn Harold off enough that he’ll decide to pack his bags and take off.
… and this time I’m not inviting him over for cocktails.
(the image isn't Harold in his current state, but it is what I imagine he is doing in there)
2 comments:
Stop drinking it is fucking up your mind.
Eat lots of peanuts you will feel better
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