"I used ta care," the Dwarf said. "Used to. I don't now. I find that enough mead cures me of givin' a damn. When yeh care, then yeh get all invested. Yeh start getting trouble o' the stomach, yeh get tha gas. And then, yeh pass wind while yer' proposin'. Her dad kicks yeh out, and you yeh end up arrested fer gettin' drunk an' pukin' on tha lute player. So, yeh. I don' care anymore." |
During an early morning, Saturday ice storm, I contemplate the existence of HFCS and the Platypus. |