163. parting shot *

she told me I was aberrated which I thought was nice as she never had a good word for me when we were together. besides, I rather like the moniker  – a square peg in a square hole fits so tight it keeps out all the dross & desiccated derelicts like you my lovely, so pretty in pink that even your farts smell of roses or so you think. an aberration is a badge of honour, reader, so wear yours with pride and, if you dare, whisper it’s nature softly before you go.