I don't know how many times I have to tell you, but I am a very serious person of consequence. Because of this I don't have anytime for April Fool's jokes. I have much more important things to do with my time, like play Word Twist on Facebook and not write my next book. So spare me your silly pranks, please. They wouldn't work anyway. I have a sixth sense when it comes to scoping out pranks. It's pretty awesome, actually. My nose gets all tingly and I break out in hives. Yeah, the hives part isn't so great, neither are the weeping sores that follow them, but whatever; it's my body's natural way of defending itself from being punk'd. So I just live with it. Don't have much choice anyway. I've tried telling my body several times to stop it with the hives and the weeping sores. "Hey, body!" I say, "Ease up on the hives and the weeping sores. I have to volunteer in Lil' Buddy's kindergarten class tomorrow and I don't want all the children thinking I'm the Swamp Thing. Again." But does my body listen? Nope. It's all, "What weeping sores, C? I don't see no weeping stores." I have no idea what my body is thinking because anybody with a pair of eyes can see how riddled with weeping sores I am. Plus there's the smell. But my body keeps acting all ignorant. "Sores? What? Where? I have no idea what you're talking about." Then it snickers and goes back to watching Ellen. I don't get my body sometimes. Regardless, I'd rather be covered in weeping sores from head to toe than be pranked by some jerk on April Fool's, or any other day for that matter. So I consider myself lucky. All these scars build character anyway. I'm really a better person because of them.

Yep.