Me, infected with a nasty head cold and unable to sleep: I want Death.
Death: That can be arranged.
Me: *Hugs Death* Thank you.
Death: No, I thought you meant actual—
Me, grinning profusely: No. I meant you. You’re mine now. Sorry. You kinda brought this upon yourself.
Death: .... -.-
At least, that’s how I wish things went down... :-:















