O Lord!

First of all let me tell you, I mean I know you are up in arms about this, so allow me to say just this one important thing: I am not allergic to any food. Well fuck you allergist. What. Do You know. Anyway. He told me to try eating a lot of wheat grass mixed with a little baby soft. I said, "Stop it Doc your scaring me!" And I laughed and he tickled me and I laughed some more. That funny asshole. He's all up in arms about tickling me now. Like I'm his tickle person! I mean, who is anyone's tickle person? Especially these days.

That was Monday. I told him, "Doc, can I call upon you to be Doc. Yes? I am so much ready for this allergy to quiz me and I will win." All the sudden I couldn't talk English. That's when it hit me that I wasn't allergic to food. I was allergic to allergists. Or rather my lingoneuro-wall, located at the vortex of my brain, was allergic to Doc. Great! I thought. That explains the exorbitant bowel movements, my brain said. Which means that my lingoneuro-wall foresaw the moment when I would go to Doc and it was up in arms. Which then means, and now I'm vehement, my lingoneuro-wall, which must be affiliated with my little stomach, is omniscient. O, what do you portend today my lord? I asked my stomach which is affiliated (using the bi-conditional) with me lingoneuro- wall, which is something I made up.

O , little stummy, what is your heart for this day?!