Truth Is Beauty

Sorry, No Conprendo I Don't Speak Loser.

Because Whipping An Atlas At Jackson's Head While He Was Flirt-touching That Frankie Girl In Geography Would Have Been Very Satisfying. And Beating Him With The Eiffel Tower Snowglobe While He Kissed Cleo In French Would Have Been Tres Cathartic. But She Hadn't. Instead She'd Been Egg-like: A Hard Shell On The Outside, And A Runny Mess On The Inside.

Are You Nervous About No Longer Being A Big Fish In A Small Pond?

I Completely Remember The Horror I Felt When My Pits Started Getting Hairy. I Would Walk With My Arms Pressed Against My Sides.

It Was An Image Melody Would Never Forget. Or Was It The Emotions The Image Conjured - Hope, Excitement, And Fear Of The Unknown, All Three Tightly Braided Together, Creating A Fourth Emotion That Was Impossible To Define. She Was Getting A Second Chance At Happiness And It Tickled Like Swallowing Fifty Fuzzy Caterpillars.