My aunt has a colostomy bag. She's shown

My aunt has a colostomy bag. She's shown me the bag, and the "stoma." It was so gross, but I felt bad for her so I pretended not to be grossed out. Why? Why must I lie to her?

She had never complained about my empty eye socket, nor the fingers on my left hand fused into one by the propane explosion. Hell, she even liked my vestigial tail, when everyone

else looked elsewhere, awkwardly. I loved her for her low standards, and also for the way her stump of a tail wagged violently when I spoke to her.

And so I talked to her incessantly, her stump wagging all the while until it became fatigued. I then would fall silent & she would curl up for a nap. Her low standards made it easy

for us to get along. There were no unrealistic expectations, and I always kept my promises. Well except for that one time when I forgot to sprinkle bacon into her dish of food. She

had ignored me for months after that one. I wanted her to be an underachiever, a proud underachiever like myself her proud

Since it was the overachievers that caused trouble in the world. It was four years after the first experiment in which he was used and the research was not complete yet!

slathered slices of white bread." The scientist did so and then took a lunch break. While they had Indian food. The janitor had the experimental jellied bread. The results were

so top secret that even the researcher was not allowed to see what they were as he wrote them in the full report. Whatever the results were the committee decided against an ending.