It’ll take almost ten hours of signing into her palm. That’s almost six times the length of the
movie. When you finish she’ll make a
terrible, atonal sound, a bit like a Wookie.
Her occupational therapist will struggle to calm her down and shoot you
a tremendously dirty look. It’ll be
very, very clear that at that moment she’ll regret pity fucking you three years
ago more than at any other date previous.
“Jesus,” you’ll sigh.
“It’s not like she was going to see it anyway.”
Her occupational therapist will read your lips and then sign
at you:
That’s not the point.
You’ll give her the finger and then walk back to your room
to masturbate to the memory sleeping with her all those years ago.
You are, by the way, the worst person we know.
Congratulations on Ruining the Sixth Sense for Your
Deaf-Mute Mom!
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