Thrice damned she howls like Cerberus to the night
Guarding virtues that lie like forgotten stains
On oaken floors that pave the willow lined paths of the past
That lead to a meadow filled with the detritus of wasted love
Rotting under a forgotten sun that no longer shines
In a heart gone cold therein lies the haste of anger.

How to contact in case of an emergency?

I prefer 911 myself...

I'm not sure if it's possible, but if it is I have a life contract with a rubber glove clause. This means almost any social interaction will involve the placing on, or removal of rubber gloves. That 'snap' means the fun, whatever type it may be, has begun.
Doctors? OK, dentists? OK, clerk at Walmart? WHAT!!
The Clerk begins to pull on the gloves as other shoppers suddenly find other open lanes.
**SNAP**!

Sometimes I wake up and wonder if those chalk outlines they have at murder scenes get together for holiday parties...

My oldest son used to say his stomach had angries when he felt sick.
I always pictured an all night fight club for finger foods!!