Humor

I’m Sorry I Murdered My Boyfriend For Not Reading My Stories

But it was clearly justifiable homicide.

Photo by Alison Courtney on Unsplash

If it pleases the Court, I’d like to say a few words in my defense.

Your Honor, I’m not a violent person. I’ll pick up a caterpillar and carry it to the other side of the road if that’s where it’s headed. I won’t even ask questions like, “Why are you trying to cross the road? You’re a caterpillar. Are there not enough trees or whatever on this side of the road? Why, fuzzy worm, why?”

I’ll pick up a toad to save it from the lawn mower (but not a frog. Frogs are on their own). If I’m feeling benevolent, I’ll transport a snake to a location more amenable to its way of life than, say, my kitchen, which is where I stepped on it with my bare foot.

After I stop screaming, I can see that we’re all just trying to survive on this big, blue, cursed marble hurtling through space at 1.3 million miles per hour.

I’m sorry, where was I? Oh, right, murdering my boyfriend.

See, Judge, my boyfriend doesn’t read or clap or… I’m sorry, I’m getting a little verklempt… or comment on my stories. Even though I’ve told him exactly one million times that by reading slowly and commenting, I reap some…