It was June and we were all at June Lake when John Ritter played his little game on me and my family. The trout had come from Gull Lake, and I could tell by the desperate gill movements that I, too, had something in my neck. When a man cleans a fish, he has to get all Bly and just go for it. When a teenage boy cleans a fish under the curse of (R)itter, he ends up with Ritter Neck. Even now I feel (H)is playful tugs when I try to sleep. I go to meetings and community events seemingly of my own will, but I know I am being led by this thing in my (n)eck. Four years after I.C. (initial contamination), I believed I had found the strength to fight John Ritter in a man named Ed Asner. Asner did what he could to help me through his billboard messages but Ritter would purposely scramble the words in order to control the tiny moments. Ritter is the cataract. Asner was weak, like me.
Stretch every morning...even your (n)eck!
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