Me: Can we be funny right now?
Libido: I mean, I can try, but you hurt my feelings yesterday. You don't care about me anymore!
Me: Come on now. That's not true.
Libido: It's not?
Me: Not at all. I NEVER cared about you.
Libido: I don't know if that's better or worse.
Pervert: If you want, I guess I could say something like "Oh hai, butts LOL" but...
Me: That's just kind of awful.
Pedantry: That's kind of awful in many ways.
Inner Child: What's going on over there?
Me: Oh just ignore them. Sports Freak and Budding Alcoholism are drinking and complaining.
Inner Child: What does...um..."fucking flag-happy zebra prick assholes" mean?
Ego: You mean, aside from the fact that we apparently have a very large vocabulary of curses?
Inner Child: Yeah.
Me: It's like this. Sometimes when things you love with all your heart perform poorly...
Libido: Like...um...someone else's dick!
Pervert: That was an odd change of phrase.
Libido: What? I work fine. I'm just...in mint condition is all.
Self-Loathing: You mean "nearly rusted off", I believe.
Me: Can I finish?!
Self-Loathing: Doubtful.
Ego: Hey!
Me: Ugh. As I was saying, even if those things really don't or even count in the long run, the poor performance will affect you the same as if they had counted.
Inner Child: I don't get it.
Me: Okay. You see that third guy drinking with them?
Inner Child: Yes.
Me: That's another part of my mind. His name is Impotent Rage.
Impotent Rage: GAHHHHHH JUST GRAHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKK AAAAARGGHH!
Inner Child: He doesn't sound happy.
Me: He's not.
Inner Child: Why haven't I met him?
Ego: Because you don't need to! That's basically all he does. Fume, yell and drink. He's like a mental native of Philadelphia.
Inner Child: Ohhhh! I get it now. He's a retard!
Me: Well...yeah, kind of.
Self-Loathing: So you're saying that you actively cultivate a part of yourself that's retarded?
Me: I listen to you, don't I?
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