An octopus came out of my belly
Never in a million years I would have thought, I would be giving birth to an actual Octopus.
You know; the one with a ton of arms and legs: or are they just arms, or just legs, someone tell me.
They are able to do a million things at the same time like brushing their teeth and putting their socks on while cooking a complete vegan meal, but also somehow forgetting where they put their phone even though it’s literally in their hand, because multitasking is just chaos with good PR.
And maybe while doing all that drawing and painting 10 different realistic artworks with all hands and feet sweeping around.
All simultaneously. At the same time. All of it.
As you would have guessed, the actual giving birth was a hell of a hell. And back.
But I’m still writing a book about that xxx event in history. Or rather I’m now translating it in English.
Myself. So it takes a while.
A long while it seems.
So to keep it ultra short: the Ripley’s gang are very lucky they put that Octopus in their ‘Believe It Or Not’-book, or else we’d all be dealing with a passive-aggressive eight-armed cease-and-desist letter written in squid ink and stapled to our faces because octopuses do not forget slights and also have more brains than we do, which feels unfair and a little rude, honestly.
Now you can read this
