Hallelujah

Here comes my nurse with my daily dose on a unicycle constructed entirely of punctuation marks, sorry sentences and sticky backed plastic- see her weaving her way through the field of lost socks, holding the medication aloft by it's ear? Here she is now. It took her six months of collecting tokens from the back of orange soda cans to get her nursing diploma, (it should be noted at this juncture that my nurse is allergic to orange soda) in only another three years she will have saved enough for the uniform. It is good to have an ambition, she thinks, my nurse has wanted to be a nurse since the second she hatched, and has overcome many adversities, all she can think about at this second, apart from delivering the medication to me which is scratching all up her arm, is that today is payday, oh joy! She can finally send the avocado stones home to her mother who is also her uncle and he will send her beloved Flea circus to her at last-by second class mail- OH! How she has missed their smiling faces in the morning, their bawdy songs- the way they leave a scummy line around the bath... Yes, she thinks, gripping the medication more firmly by the scruff of it's neck, today will be a good day, and I of course, agree: We are finally going to eat something.