I woke up again, this time in a pimped out wheelchair with flames on the wheels. A real pimpmobile. Looking around, I noticed the color of the walls around me. I began to cry, it was weed green, my 35th favorite color. Somebody loved me. I stopped crying like a little biatch and stood the hell up. Wheelchairs were for people that didn't like pain. I crab walked over to the door and tried the handle- locked. I knew what this meant. I quickly put my hand on the door and made a quick knock knock kno-knock knock.
"Do you want to build a snowman?" I whispered at a quiet 194 dB.
"C'mon let's go and play!" a voice responded back in a long lost Native American dialect.
"I never see you anymore..."
"Come out the door..."
(In unison for extra special effects) "It's like you've gone away!"
The door opened as fast as a door that opens really fast and he was standing in the doorway in all of his mediocre glory. I was on the ground because the door opened inwards and knocked me in the face. It was just like my seventh year of preschool all over again, but with a door, and me getting hit on the chin with it. It was nothing like my seventh year of preschool.
"You've been asleep for nearly twenty days, my love for you was almost Frozen," he said.
"Oh baby, I'd never have anna-ther one but you," I replied.
"Lol," He sophisticatedly said, "It's just like your eleventh year of preschool."
I was loafing around, because I was bread.
"You look toasted," he said.
I loafed tf out of the room. Nobody calls me toasted.
He gagged.
