Nipples are like a manatee. They lazily float about without a care in the world until run over by a steel boat propeller, and then they bleed profusely turning a world of clarity to a nightmare of rouge, exsanguinating in agony and torment to the mirthful amusement of all in witness.

I deeply sliced my nipple shaving off thick manly chest hair. Stop laughing. It’s not funny.