Okay, you've had your fun. You can ease up now. You got me. Way to go. Go and tell the gypsy to remove the hex you had put on me. It worked. Worked wonders, actually. I got a double ear infection. Two bruised toes. And this weekend, I pulled my back out and broke my mother's refrigerator. Well done. Whatever you paid the gypsy was well worth it. Now tell her to stop it. Really. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to know what will happen next if the hex continues. Will I run over the neighbors' cat? Break my ankle? Break my mom's dryer?

Really. You've more than paid me back for whatever it is you think I did to you. What was it anyway? It's because I'm better looking, right? Well, I can see how that would make you feel bad because I am very good looking, but I really can't help that. God made me this way and God made you that way. Blame God. Have the gypsy put a hex on God. Make God have a double ear infection. Make God break his mom's refrigerator. That will show Him. But please, ease up on me. I'm done. You won. You got me. You got me good.

This post is dedicated to Tina Yothers.