i am so sick.
my face is a waterpark. my nose is a car horn.
my fingers are icicles and my feet are on fire.
a miniature armadillo crawled into my throat and is running his tiny little claws up and down my throat.
it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
it's so loud. somebody shoot that armadillo, please.
and what's this? a headache?
my head might fall off!
what if my head falls off?
no more complaining.
you'd like that, wouldn't you? you'd be all, "finally. her head fell off. no more complaining."
and then i'd be like, " ."
here is another house.