It Takes Me a While to Open Up, But It’s Worth It So You Can Steal the Pearl I Grew

A lot of people would probably describe me as somewhat reserved. I’m much more of an observer than a talker, so getting to a point where I feel comfortable around others can be a tough for me. It just takes me a while to open up, but it’s ultimately worth it if your goal is to steal the pearl I grew inside of me.

 

You see, much like a clam, I can also make pearls, but also much like a clam, you’re never gonna see this banger of a pearl unless I feel comfortable opening up to you.

 

Understanding me just takes time, and if you’re patient enough, I will feel at ease enough to open big and your efforts will pay off because you can then snatch the huge pearl I mineralized in my stomach and auction it off at Sotheby’s for $50 million or something like that. That’s just the payoff for getting to know me.

 

Seriously, I’m not one for idle chit-chat, but because I’m roughly the size of one hundred clams, the pearl I just grew should belong in a museum somewhere with a plaque that reads, “Pretty good for a person who’s not a mollusk.”

 

To see that worth in me, you just have to let me feel comfortable enough to let you into my world, which I’m not likely to share with just anyone ­­– especially because I’m one of the only surviving member of the accident by the water treatment plant in 1996 and as far as I know, there is nobody else like me (except for Dan, who just kind of gets a lot of kidney stones).

 

 

Even though I sometimes seem hard to read, I’m actually a huge softie on the inside, where my clam-like stomach tissue has created the perfect environment for a pearl to spontaneously grow. Of course you wouldn’t be able to guess this from the outside, but I really do have a rich inner life that can cultivate a pearl, and it’s worth getting to know because you can then steal that pearl and sell it to a foreign government for the price of a gold-rimmed Winnebago.

 

I’m not kidding. The pearl I just made looks like a human baby and also weighs about the same.

 

And I do tend to keep to myself, but not because I don’t want to connect. In fact, even when I’m quiet I’m frequently thinking, “Please give me a chance! If I feel safe opening myself up, a pearl so motherfucking big it should be illegal has sprouted in my tumtum, and with the right buyer it could make you rich enough to name your firstborn something insane, like ‘Liquiteria.’”

 

Doesn’t that seem worthwhile?

 

Yes, I may live in the sand. Not literally – my brain is sand, and sometimes I just burrow deep, deep down to where you hit the sea, and I stay there for a long time and slowly calcify my food into a precious gemstone. You may sometimes wonder where I’ve gone. However, with enough love and care, I’ll open right up and you can steal that shit and make a name for yourself on the Nicaraguan black market.

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