Diam-Diam Menabung Beli Cincin, Akhirnya Lelaki Ini Dapat ‘Surprise’ Besar Dari Kekasih
Sumber : Ohbulan
Personal Injury Lawyer Lafayette
Recently, I have been waking up in the middle of the night, bellowing in severe pain. I plead to my dear wife to please take me to the local emergency room because I can no longer stand the pain that is coming from my foot or leg or back or neck. Even though we have insurance, no matter how much I plead with her, she never does rush me to the ER, and instead tells me to just go back to sleep.
In the past few weeks, I have also noticed that the sight of the colors yellow and red for some reason make me feel ill and grimace with the most pained expression you have ever seen. Not to mention, my wife has also noticed that I have been talking in my sleep — muttering such incoherent phrases about phone calls and insurance companies. (Editor’s note: Raymond’s wife says he does no such things and says he sleeps through anything.)
So what is wrong with me?
Did I contact some sort of exotic toxin that is turning my mind to mush? Or do I have some sort of disease — the kind that has far too many consonants in its name to pronounce properly — that has caused me this insurmountable amount of continuous physical torture?
I have no idea what is wrong with me. But my wife has come up with her own theory.
After a very thorough investigation, she has diagnosed me with “Louisiana Highway 90 Commuter Syndrome,” which she claims is the result of being brainwashed by advertising billboards for injury lawyers.
I tell her that there is no way I could be brainwashed.
I mean that is the stuff of movies, like what happened to the soldiers in the “The Manchurian Candidate” or to Alex in “A Clockwork Orange.” And since I am neither a U.S. war hero turned Communist assassin, nor a young Englishman who fancies a bit of the ultraviolence, there is no way that I could be brainwashed.
