Who can it be now?

Who can it be now?

Who can it be knocking at my door? He said "Police" ...Police? "Police who?", I replied. "Police hurry up, and let me inside." I opened the door and Ramrod Dank was standing there.

"Did anyone see you?" I asked, my eyes darting here, there & everywhere. "No," said Ramrod Dirk with calm slipperiness befitying of a seasoned cop. "But just in case, put this on."

I was a bit confused, bc I normally dont wear the feathers & the monkeydong, but it was Saturday afternoon, & I didnt have anything else going on. Why not, right? I gingerly put on

a ginger poultice over my gaping wound. Oh my sweet gaping wound, I hope you never heal. You are sweet and sour. Like a giant boiled crab wonton split in half that just oozes and

like sweet and sour soup. I love you, gaping wound, but our love is forbidden by the church! I want to run away with you and have an August wedding in July. You make my loins burn

I want to have your babies!" "Woah hold up" the injury said "let's just start with some Neosporin first, okay?" It didn't get any better. Our relationship was toxic, but I couldn't

end it. Looking back I see it was obsession, but at the time it was love. My injury and I were inseparable. I couldn't let him go, couldn't let him heal. He began to drink heavily.

He almost drank me to death...put me in a two day coma...but I broke away from his spell...I divorced him...I let my injury go--finally--and gave him time and space to heal.