Made You Look

Insight is a funny thing. I'm talking about life's truths. Like how to broach the subject of your white shirt tail poking out through your undone pant zipper. Or how you also have a booger hanging down from your left nostril. You can't just come out and say stuff like that. Even in private. That would be... so gauche.

Like how the pattern of your Spider Man pajama top shows through your artistically wrinkled dress shirt; the one with the strategically placed armpit stains. There's your possible feelings of embarrassment over having really bad fish breath to consider. One never knows. Maybe it's not rotten fish at all but you may have a very serious disease. That would explain the green bits in your teeth, wouldn't it? It's not yesterday's spinach after all! And maybe you intended for those cowlicks to stand up like that just on the right side your head. After all, maybe it's none of my business if you're trailing toilet paper out the back of your pants.

Personally I think it's extremely clever how you arranged for half your breakfast to be left in your beard. You're obviously saving it in case you get peckish mid-morning. How very frugal of you! Something to be enlivened with the condiments splattered on your tie (a great collection of ketchup, mustard and hot sauce BTW). I have to remind myself that maybe your wife was up all night with a sick child and was grabbing a much needed few minutes of sleep when you got up this morning and you had to get dressed in the dark so that would explain your mismatched socks; one of which is inside out.

You might assume that because I've already mentioned a few things to you in the past, (like maybe how the wet spot in your pants might be solved with the insertion of a simple adult diaper) that I should speak out again. But then again, maybe you won't take it as well this time. Maybe you'll be shattered. Maybe you'll fall to pieces, your family will disown you and you'll end up in the gutter with a friendly chap named Slime sitting beside you, gazing lovingly at the leftover cheese-flavored doodle snacks in your pant cuffs with his one good eye.

But if I do mention something that leads to me saving you, should you need to be saved, maybe I will have finally found a purpose in life. And I'd have you to thank for that. And you can have a new purpose too, if you want. A rejuvenation. People will go, "Wow, you look great! Here's a bunch of money." And then you'll save the world and win the Pulitzer Peace Prize. And I'll be stuck here wondering about the rightfulness of my actions because you've now become an INSUFFERABLE, POMPOUS GIT.

No, I can't do that to you. I like you too much as you are now.