I'm not gay, much to Joel's dissapointment

I hate my new lisp. It sucks. I’m spitting out extra ‘S’s and I can’t stop. I need a speech therapist.

I’m guessing you all want to hear the story about how I got my speech impediment.

There’s not much to tell. I tried to snatch a Shrek Pez dispenser from Rolf’s.

Joel kicked my ass. He broke my jaw in three places.

I don’t remember much after the Vulcan death grip. He backed off in time so I was only paralyzed.

I vaguely recollect my teeth on the curb, pressure being applied to my head, a crunching sound, the taste of copper in my mouth and warm liquid dripping down my chin.

I blacked out then, and when I awoke. I was in room 109 at the Rocky Mountain General hospital.

My jaw was wired shut. I drank my meals through a straw, and spoke on a notepad.

My time in the hospital were the best days of my life.

My metal mouthpiece gave me the illusion that I was Trapjaw from Heman.

Everyday I dreamt of defeating the powerful prince Adam and his Battlecat. I imagined Skeletor’s praise when I brought him the head of his arch nemesis.

I wanted to lead the charge into Greyskull and steal its magical powers.

Then the damn doctor had to unscrew my mouth and ruin the best days of my life.

I think that doctor might have a horrible accident in the near future.

As for Joel, you’re going down, down, down.