It seems like pain and regret are your best

It seems like pain and regret are your best friends.

You could put on a show, you know. Call your sock puppets Pain and Regret. Live off of crumbs of Birthday cakes as you go from suburb to suburb. Just leave.

vegetables!' The teary-eyed child turned his fork into a catapult and flung food freely into the air. A rain of Brussels sprouts bounced off the babysitter's forehead.

Fed-up, the babysitter pulled out a rope. Tying the brat to the chair, picking up a brussel sprout from the floor, and skewering it with a fork, she shoved it near his face. "eat.

Or so gods are my witnesses I will make sure that for the rest of your miserable life you scream at the sight of any brassica-related vegetable." Gods, she hated kids. The brat who

wasn't eating his turnip stew really made her swear up the whole pantheon of kitchen & nursing gods to aid her to stuff his mewling mouth. She was the last to expect the gods to

notice her. "But We do notice you Pru. You're the only one who still knows our names. So many of the old gods are dying because nobody remembers their names. even to blaspheme like

Gadzooks. No one curses like that anymore. So Gadzooks passed into the ether like mist wafting in from the sea. But you, Pru, you know OUR names. You keep us alive for the next

Generation of articulate robots, one of whom has been ordered from Amazon and will soon be cleaning your house. Your cats won't like it so be prepared and take your last breaths.