I had such high hopes for it. Sent it to the best schools, fed it whole grains. And look how it let me down. Those calves look like they belong to a Na'vi. Her left forearm hopelessly small. The ambience sterile. The modeling messy and overworked. The best parts are the fabrics. What does that say about me? That I'm a sociopath? An osteopath? A garden path, up which fools are being led? I will gladly make them suffer. Little children too. If Kate Winslet had posed for this in her red bathing suit, I would have made her suffer too. Such is my gift for giftlessness. Having now filled my glass half full with puerile mewling, I turn and face the future with a renewed sense of despair. I'm going to walk through the night with my head held high, whistling a happy tune, prepared to climb ev'ry mountain in my quixotic quest for that missing 'e'.