that damn wasp as your tears stream down which you can’t wipe up because you forgot to bring tissues and the serviettes are all stained with chicken fat from the sandwiches you can’t finish since you now want to kill yourself because of the pain but you can’t because the only knives available are plastic ones from the deli don’t worry because tomorrow you’ll feel much less pain but instead will experience the worst itching of your entire miserable existence and once again you’ll wish you could somehow lose the offending finger since you’re positive you could get along just fine without it even if you want to text the person you went on the picnic date with which you don’t because who the hell wants to be reminded of the worst pain you’ve ever suffered from in your whole life well maybe except for childbirth although that was a different kind of pain horrendously whole-body- ish whereas this is more like a razor-sharp spear ripping into your finger? not me
Ellie Presner is a Montreal writer and editor. Her books include a memoir of the crazy decade she spent as a script coordinator. Surviving Hollywood North: Crew Confessions from an Insider, and First Kiss and other True Fiction, stories of angst, anger, and loads of humor. Find her here, on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, or IMDB.