Frank Bruni

I’m not good at religion. I’m better at drama. I called Tom, my partner of more than nine years: “Would you still love me with a cane and a bad habit of bumping into things?” I called three of my best friends: “I’m fat, I’m old and now I’m a Cyclops. Do you think there’d be interest in the movie rights?” I called my sister: “You have to give me your dog. But first you have to retrain him as a companion for the blind.” My phone soon ran out of juice. My body was pumped full of it.
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