At least somebody is laughing.
Your stoic stare is making me sick, and I can’t even see it.
I’m serious. Don’t smile. I mean it. Stop smiling. That shit is getting old. Like preschool, but I do like crayons. Literally. Crayons. On your face.
Your teeth are sharp and they make me nervous so seriously, stop smiling. The crayons are in the washer with your whites.