Belt Assistance

Come here, friend. Come closer.

Can you help me get my belt on? I’m having trouble getting it through the loops. My belt is so noodley sometimes!

Here, I’ll just give you my belt. You can use your fingers to guide it through the belt loops and then cinch it snugly across my belly. We can do it together. I’ll use my hands to guide yours. Sorry my fingers are so chilly.

No, no, don’t resist. I need your assistance. My pants are too loose and are liable to fall around my ankles if I don’t wear a belt. Please don’t leave me. I don’t think I can handle yet another rejection!

Here, please, take my belt. It’s yours to do as you wish with. I cannot meet your steady gaze any longer, so filled am I with remorse. It was too much for me to ask.

AH! Why are you whipping me with my own belt? Oh, cruel irony! Your brutal blows are landing about my neck and cheeks and I am powerless to resist! The blood is flowing thickly now! I have fallen to the ground in a heap of bruised, weeping flesh! You continue to rain merciless blows down upon me! All is lost!

Why did you just force me to watch you shoot a raccoon with a shotgun? Even amidst this terrible violence, that seems gratuitous. Seriously, that image is stuck in my head now. You went too far.

No! Now you have resumed beating me! I am very likely bleeding internally! I’m sorry for my insolence! From now on, I will wear only sweatpants!

All life is but a tortured, unending sorrow!

This post was written by Bramble, a melancholy man whose awkward advances often end in misunderstanding.