you should send it to me because i've been a loser for most of my life. when i was a young man i was born with a broken leg. i didn't walk or talk until i was 4, and by that time it was too late: i was a bruised ghost of a child with no walkable path or understanding of the king's english. as i slowly began to understand the world around me i became superstitious, as most cripples do. my stunted legs offered me little relief from the pursuit of black cats yet i managed. my constant struggles caused me to have weight problems: by the time i was 6 i only weighted 40 pounds. i must have been a pathetic sight: a pint sized, overalls wearing negro boy sporting a top hat and a gucci bag for my asthma medicine. by the time i reached 10 i was still in first grade, yet still the smallest child in the room. william said i was special but i knew what that really meant. i was nothing more than the little boy the principle locked in his office bathroom for hours at a time as he threw licorice at me, demanding i tap dance for entry into the second grade.
that's why i deserve the game