Magnolia

Farting after ice-cream is the worst kind of farting. The farts are full and hot, and they scorch your asshole. Oh, my dragon's larynx colon.

So there were a whole bunch of things I needed to tell you. Except, I've forgotten them all. I'm erasing memories. It's necessary, to make room for new ones; out with the old, in with the new. There's a big glass jar of booze growling at me, and something inside me is growling back. It's from a local brewery; it's crisp and fresh and, golden. The frosty mug and the thick top almost make me feel I'm drinking a root-beer float: I swear there's whipped cream in this thing.

There was something I needed to relay...something I was going to say.

Something I never told you.