I was like, really happy when Al mentioned me in therapy.

Mainly because that means I am important.

Sometimes I have low self esteem.

There are times when Al has no idea how to stand up for herself.

So, I have to take a hammer to that big giant imposing bubble she has around her at all times.

Sometimes a hammer, but I like to use my fucking fists.

Sometimes, she does battle with the bubble on her own, but she tends to cry about it.

“New age therapy, it’s just like that.” She says.

“It makes you cry?” I ask.

“It makes you cry, and then it makes you hate yourself, and then you are okay for a while.”

“That sounds strangely like my masturbation sessions.” And she laughs because thats what she does. She laughs at me when I am disgusting. She doesn’t think I am disgusting.

But, I tell her that I saw her before she even gave me the time of day, and the bubble never scared me anyway, because I don’t give a shit about that. I once beat up a lady in a Target parking lot. So, the bubble is nothing more than a really unattractive dress. And sometimes, I have to tell her that the dress is not that flattering on her. That she probably just looks better naked, or in a nice pair of jeans and form fitting tank.

The bubble is my bitch now, but soon it will be Al’s. Soon Al will be able to punch through the giant imposing bubble without a football player and without a silly girl who fights too much.

Soon, Al will knock the shit outta that bubble.

Soon.

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