I’ve been naughty. Quite naughty. Cheeky even.
I’ve been bad.
*insert a visual of Rebekah drawing her pinky up to the corner of her mouth. Mischievous grin*
Lately, I’ve eaten—quite frankly—everything. I’ve eaten everything. Sofa cushions. Golf balls. Hand soap… Let’s just say, don’t look for Fluffy, because Fluffy ain’t there. Fluffy went for The Long Walk.
*spits out a mouthful of fur and dabs her lip with an elegant silk napkin*
I’m surprised the house is still standing, to be honest. Those supporting beams have been looking mighty tasty.
Hello people of the world.
It’s been a while since I’ve written a rambly post. Straight from the hip. No points. No previous thoughts.
No preparation whatsoever.
I’m such a dedicated little blog post writer.
I’m afraid I have reached the point in my life where writing a post on how to be mature is necessary.
I’ve seen the signs. The creative muses have cried out to me.
No, they’ve said, don’t write one more joke until you’ve spread this message of maturity. The world needs your help, Rebekah.
So here I am.