I'm packing my gear in preparation to vacate the train; I put my foot on the step, grab the handhold, and boost myself up to reach the top bunk, where my gear is...and smack my head into it. Hard. So I probably get to start my journey with a concussion. Oh, well.
Some people think that I talk and don't follow through, but the truth is that it's always like this: something always goes wrong. My luck is just damned rotten, like I've lived under a cloud or a curse my whole life. I like to think that the devil hates me because he's jealous that I'm so awesome.
No comments:
Post a Comment