He slid his dry tongue against the bottom of his top jagged teeth, and, of course, it bled, and it obviously tasted like it. Truth is, this was a daily ritual, something about how hope springs eternal with your own fluids in your mouth. It’s an archaic German expression, so it doesn’t matter. For the first time in the last hour, Emile Prattwell stopped everything. He was discombobulated by the apparent elephant in the room question: Would this be a completely different experience if he was a cannibal?
The results were unquestionable, even conclusive. Roman Moranski had full blown diphtheria. He was far from happy upon hearing these results, but it was nothing compared to Dr. Patel’s wrath. She obsessed over the inconvenience and cost of the decontamination process alone. And don’t you dare get her started on how this would mess up her brand new aquarium filled with the rarest most expensive tropical fish for the waiting room.
Every so often an expression comes along that is so stupid, you begin to hate anyone who uses it. And of course, because it’s such a damn catchphrase, you eventually use it yourself, and nothing good ever happens when you hate yourself. Here’s a recap of trite truisms: It is what it is. Life’s a bitch and then you die. Life’s a bitch and then you marry her. YOLO. Don’t worry, be happy. Life’s a beach. Life’s a beach and then you marry her. Shit happens. It’s like rain on your wedding day. Today, it is the nothingburger.
It was her yoga mat. In a very general way, you could accuse Emma Hopkins for being a clean person, although one could easily disperse such thoughts by getting a good whiff of the atrocious rolled up foam rubber tucked under her arm. In a world where everything is under a constant magnifying glass, you would see her armpit scream vomiting.