Pals

 

I want you to look at this picture. Simply look. I don't want you to see it. Seeing something is not the same as looking at it. Seeing implies that you divulge something from what you see. Believe me... I just want you to look.

Look at this picture. Granted, you'll immediately find your Father. Next, if you're as twisted as I, you will find the juvenile humor in the sign placement. Granted, all of that is hilarious to me, but I don't want you to see it. I want you to look further.

If you look, you'll find something out of place. That fuzzy little bit in the bottom left hand corner.

That's a Pal.

Someone who has endeared (endured works here as well) themselves with you to put up with your childish whims, your broken moments, and your lowest gasps. Someone who has seen your naked ass running into the Atlantic Ocean at midnight, even if you felt upstaged by people half your age, and still held the towel for when you emerged from such a foolish endeavor.

That's a pal.

Pals last for good.