The Worst

When I was seven, my mother hired a pony and a cart to come to my house for all the kids. And I got a really bad rash, from the pony. And all the kids got to ride the pony. And I had to go inside. And my mother was rubbing cream on me for probably three hours. And I never came outside. And by the time I got out, the pony was already in the truck and around the corner. So that was my worst birthday.