So I am doubly worthy of your forbearance. Not only are my utterances revolting, but my countenance is, now, too. My face is horribly disfigured with some revivified chicken pox virus. The oozing pustules and lesions are enough to frighten anyone away. My right eye verily seems constructed of blood and pus. I fear I shall be permanently scarred, much like my psyche already is. I have taken to effecting a hunchback pose by stuffing towels under the shoulders of my coat and lurching around.
See? I told you that I needed those new Glamour Shots. (The ones with the football or other sports object and the full erection.) Now it's too late. A once-beautiful flower, now the town hunchback, skulking from alleyway to pier.
