Moore Is Unsure

Late one evening I asked one of my nephews to render a drawing of me using the crayons available at hand. As he took to the wall to immortalise me I couldn't help but sigh with smug satisfaction over the thoughts of my sibling waking up each and every morning to see my one-dimensional bust adorning his bedroom wall.

At that precise moment I also thought of the chronic shite I have to listen to every day and began to frown immeasurably. Unfortunately I also had a Geordi La Forge (the gimp out of Star Trek) visor on my face, some raisins on my cheeks and small mouse on my top lip. More disturbingly a darkness darker than the darkest broom closet in Dante's 3rd ring of hell had enveloped me.

As you can see from the picture the child is quite brilliant. Either that or he's that little f*cker out of The Sixth Sense in which case that makes me dead.