The English Patent #24303

There she was. The love of my life. It was love at first sight. The way she moved... It was hypnotic, which explains why I cluck like a chicken every time I hear a bell. I had to talk to her, but there was a problem.

I had lost my voice yelling at my neighbors dog the night before. Not because it was barking or anything, I'm just a jerk to animals. I thought that was all there was to life, yelling at things, until I met her.

Her hair was like golden fields of red lava flowing into the polluted waters of Lake Erie: Ok, so she had several botched hair dye jobs, but I didn't care. Her eyes were probably beautiful, but they were swollen shut from the boxing match she was in earlier that night. And the teeth she still had were like sparkling pearls, swimming in fancy ketchup.

So I spent the next five days planning the perfect way to meet her and waiting for my voice to recover. The time of day, the words I say, and then the date by the bay. Everything was perfect, and nothing was left to chance... or so I thought. Finally the H-hour of the D-day came when I would express my love for her.

I went to the gym where she worked, "Grrl Pwr Gym". Ladies were everywhere, but I only care about one. She was jumping rope in the corner. The rope was making the same sound as my heart: wippity wappity. Sure I was nervous, but if I chickened out now I would lose her, and that is something that yelling at a thousand dogs wouldn't be able to fix.

And then I realized that the wippity wappity sound wasn't because I was nervous, it was because I was 40 years old and I've been eating double-bacon cheese burgers since I was six. My heart eventually exploded.

The doctors were able to reconstruct and reattach my heart. They had to go as far as my bladder to get some of the pieces. I guess this story just goes to show you how amazing today's medical science really is.