TFW there's a troll under the bridge, but you've got to trip, trop, trip, trop your way across it anyway.

back in my day we didn't have social media

you wanted a stranger to give you some positive feedback you had to walk along the train tracks gathering sodee bottles and distribute 'em to the rail-bums who knew how to get cash for 'em and they'd give you half a dirty playing card you'd hide in a tree house and while you was up there thinking about life, some soldier back from the war would see you out their window from the room they scream in and they'd give you a thumbs up

just like that

if you need breakfast conversation while you scrape butter on your toast, you can use this never-used conversation gambit, I don't mind:

you hear they shut down that wuxia summer camp down the road 'cause they were teaching all the kids to run on tree tops and every last one of 'em fell into the lake? yup.

It is--impossible to deny it--somewhat of a comfort that my response to a certain amount of bad luck or inconvenience is to find everything terribly, terribly funny.

Ragged Feathers

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