Silly Questions Deserve Silly Answers

"What is wrong with you?"

You know, I hear that a lot.

Or at least I used to.

Now people either are used to it, or they gone.

Long gone.

Given the steel toe.

Booted off the existence of my reality.

Gone, baby, gone.

Don't let the door hit ya, fat arse.

Where was I?

Oh yes, the first hundred or so times I heard "What is wrong with you?" I would take it literally.

Nothing, I'd say or think.

Things are quite well, actually.

It takes some getting used to, you know.

Me.

What is right with you?

That's a finer question.

I think a blessed question.

For it lets me talk for hours.

But I don't like doing that.

Only a few minutes.

Via written word.

Sometimes, rarely, twice a day.

But usually only once.

Thanks for asking.