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Of course we need the money. Of course we do. You think we drive a van from the nineties for the aesthetic? The fucking thing’s going to blow up on the freeway with us in it! Jesus Christ, all the things we could fix: The freezer, the broken toilet, the floors he installed falling apart right under us. My medical bills. Who do you think’s paying for those? The government? We live in America. We are Americans. We are living pieces of shit floating on a giant, much bigger piece of shit where everybody laughs at us and everything costs too much money and nobody knows how to pay for anything—”
First of all, the gay equivalent of a meet cute at Trader Joe’s is a meet cute at Trader Joe’s. It’s the gayest of the major chain groceries,”
no person, not even a divine one, picks a two-year-old with an entire life ahead of them and decides to give them a malignant cancer that fills the entirety of their short little life with pain beyond measure.
