I’m wearing a green sweater today. I’m not sure about this green sweater. I feel like it makes me look like Brett Favre, except taller and less petulant.
Why did I put a green sweater on this morning? It was just a whim, I suppose. I saw it sitting there, so I took it. In this way, I am like a miscreant teen stealing a Milky Way from a local convenience mart before being gunned down from behind by a vigilante mob hell-bent for justice. The not-yet-sated mob then severs the teen’s head and skewers it atop a pike placed at the convenience mart’s entrance as a warning to all Milky Way-craving ne’er-do-wells who might enter. (This story takes place in Sierra Leone.)
Anyway, back to my green sweater. I’d take it off, except that I’m not wearing anything underneath, and topless teaching is frowned upon these days in our litigious society. I guess my only option is to continue wearing the clothes I dressed myself in this morning. To look at my pitiful condition one would think I were a medieval Russian serf left to choose between a life of tilling barren, dusty soil, or being violated by unwashed Cossacks.
Stupid green sweater. Barack Obama had better do something about this.