Burn me with my combo lock. I’ve had it since grade 7. It’s rusted and cantankerous and makes a particular squeak when I haven’t got the last number just right. Every time I use it I feel fourteen years old again, for all the pimpled bad and scrawny-assed good that life was.
That’s my last Will and Testament. I sure do hope it’s legal. I put a lot of heart into it.
Filed under: That's Life
