Today I keep thinking about people who have hurt me. The bastards.
Forgiveness is a fine thing. Bitterness only corrodes the vessel containing it. It is best to learn from such things and move on.
Yet still I find myself making vegetable voodoo dolls and visiting arse grapes upon them.
"Hemorrhoids, hemorrhoids, hemorrhoids," I incant, cackling madly to myself and affixing a bunch of seedless red to the parsnip doll's derriere.
Of course the whole thing is merely an exercise in venting emotion and can in no way cause actual harm. Or can it? If you've ever upset me and now can't sit down without wincing and reaching for your inflatable rubber ring do let me know!