• farmgineer@nord.pub
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    16 days ago

    Dearest Mother,

    We were loosed into the wilds once again to-day. The bars had no monkeys, but I was sure I heard their cries. More loudly, though, were the cries of Timothy who fell from the top of a pipe-skeletoned half-sphere. He was carted away to murky insides of the nurse’s office, gravel in his knee and his leg at a strange angle. Without warning, another of my compatriots skids to a stop just before my feet, having flung themselves from great height off of a ‘swing’. Mother, I am only 9 and unprepared for this cruel world into which I have been thrust. Shall I survive the day?

    Your loving son,
    ~signed


    based loosely on a true story. I also got my head bashed on a merry-go-round that probably should have resulted in stitches.