I sent a letter to the Benedict while I was still in London. So while I’m cleaning out my mom’s desk drawer I see a folded envelope with my name on the very bottom, covered up by receipts and notes and I’m like “no…” and I open it AND
“Damn! Can never remember the next note…Happy Birthday to…
this is the story of how I died
HOLY MOTHERFUCKER. Have you got more neck freckles than before?
Also…i may forever more refer to neck freckles as neckles.