Here is what we think on Damnation: (We know it is true we learned it all from a napkin holder at a Stuckey's I went to. So it is true true true.)
An eternal layer of despair. (D-spare!) They go there, and they are sorted there by their digressions. (A lot like an automatic coin sorter. Damn the Canadian quarters they keep giving me as change at the mall! Why will they not fit in the proper holes?) There, they realize that all is lost. (All?)
First there is one level. (One level of damnation. One level. This is true.) This is for the people who moked me for misspelling "mocked." (You bastrads. You bastrads.) I can spell. (We spelled our way into second place at the National Spelling Bee. We would have gotten first, but "Fluvioglacial" is not a word. It is not!) Do not ask us to see the ribon from our spelling bee win. (It is in the shop getting re-riboned.) Damn you!
The next level of damnation is for those who take our spots, when we have specifically called them as mine. (Mine! Mine!) I call this table. (Yes, the entire table.) We will eat here. Alone. (As we always do.) But because I have called the entire cafeteria table! Not because we are alone. (The entire table is ours. I need to stretch out to eat my pudding.) Do not sit here. DO NOT, DAMN YOU! (Please sit with us. Please.)
I have called the following spots for us: The toilet on the second floor of Macy's without the sticky seat, the front row of the movie theater (We need to be close, we need to see it all we need to be close stop stop stop doing that in here! You are to be watching a movie. Like me.), the bush outside her window (NO! We are looking for our contacts here. I did not notice Strawberry there. I can not see without my contacts.), Mercer Island, and the candy aisle. All others in those places may in turn call one place as their own: The second level of damnation. (Level two.) You all understand?
The third level of damnation is for those people who have not yet re-riboned my Second Place National Spelling Bee Ribon. (I tell you, it can be done! It CAN!) We stare at the empty space on our wall, and remember the good times. (Like when we still had our Second Place National Spelling Bee Ribon. Ahh...yes.) The good times.
The fourth level is for the little girl who leaves the Wall Street Journal on my porch every morning. (We not understand!) We did not ask for this paper. (There is no Family Circus! None!) Please do not leave it on my porch. (Do we have a porch? Perhaps we should. If we did, perhaps she would be more intimidated and would stop leaving newspapers on it. The porch should have lasers.) Stop coming by our house asking for money twice monthly. I did not ask for the Wall Street Journal! Really we did not. (The Family Circus! Lasers!)