CLEAN PANTS!

Later today I have an appointment to see my cardiologist. As part of the regular routine of proving that I am neither a zombie nor a hopping vampire. The full scale check-up happens once a year and is split between two clinics, the stress test (running on a machine with wires attached to my tits) takes place at the cardiologist's office. I'm seeing my regular doctor for discussion of the results of this, blood and urine tests, tomography, and ultra sound scans, sometime next week.


"Run, it's alive, it's alive!"


Naturally I expect to hear that I am not an evil supernatural entity.

I think I have been succesfully mimicking normal behaviour and facial expressions all these years, and silver doesn't turns black when I am near. And I put clothes on, frequently.

Reports that I am an evil undead bunny rabbit are false.

Or any case an outrageous exaggeration.


Naturally I will be wearing clean pants, I made sure of that. And I won't have lettuce stuck between my teeth. I often have clean pants, because I remember when I was little being told that if a nuclear holocaust happened and they found my radioactive corpse among the rubble wearing dirty trousers it would be horribly embarassing and I would never live it down.


Rabbit rabbit.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================