I don't know how to play the guitar, but I randomly struck a few strings in succession for you and they all came out as a nice tune. You were impressed with what I did, showing approval by that sweet sweet smile of yours. I was happy.

(I want to learn to play the harmonica)

I cut open the upper temple of my head and used a mirror to peer inside it. I was digusted by what I saw, and I tried to look away, waiting for the pain to seep in. It never did.

(I wished I stuck a chopstick in there and just stirred around the insides of my head. And I probably would if I knew it wouldn't hurt)

I think I used sticky tape to tape the upper temple back onto my head so that it wouldn't fall off. But it was dodgey, walking on the streets, feeling as though the top part of my head would fall off, exposing my sick sick mind.

-------> end

Fuck accounting. Seriously FUCK accounting. I want a little giraffe.