What Am I a-Freud Of?

Gotta bone to pick with my therapist. “Breakthrough” my arse! Repressed memories are repressed for a reason, doc! I mean, hey – if I had wanted to remember that overnight camping trip when I was a Webelo scout I would have. I shoved it back into the deep recesses of my hippocampus for a reason!

But now it’s out in the open, basking in the cold light of day, so I might as well own up to it.  Yes, I killed a kid because he wouldn’t let go of my Eggo. And, no, that’s not a euphemism. He actually had the nerve to grab by Eggo waffle as it popped out of the toaster, just like in the damn commercials. I warned him not to, but he thought it was funny. Well, who’s laughing now, Crandall? WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?!

See. It’s crap like that you just got to repress or it’ll make you batty.

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