The best birthday present I got was from the two most irritating and horrible excuses for human beings I have ever met, both of whom happen to tag team me with torture on a weekly basis in Fiction Writing. But on Tuesday, they didn’t show up. Neither of them. I was so thrilled, I actually—dare I say it?—enjoyed a session of Fiction Writing. I didn’t really think those two were the dual sources of pain in the class, but the class environment improved so much in their absence, I guess I misjudged the power of their evil.
My sister got me “The Simpsons” Clue, which earns a close second place, tied with the ph@t c@$h I received from my grandparents.
In last place: the clothes my parents gave me. Granted, I like clothes. Granted, I need clothes because my jeans are shrinking (no, really, it’s the jeans), so it was a thoughtful and practical gift, but it’s not exactly the thing that makes you shout out, “Thank God I’m alive!” I was more hoping that I would receive one—if not both—of the Fiction Twins’ heads in a box. Of course, with my luck, the head would then take possession of my body and force me to do its bidding. But it’d be cool initially.