1) The very first time I got stuck in a well. My mother leaned over the edge of the well, a fixture of our town center, and said “Phillip, I told you so. I told you to stay away from that well, and now you are inside of it.” I yelled back up at her, “You are right, mother. This will not happen again. I am wrong and you are right, and this well is bad.”

2) The time that I walked on the edge of the well and said “Mother, there is no way that I can fall inside of this well again.” She yelled back at me from the porch of our home “Phillip, stay away from that well. It is very bad and the water inside is beige. There is no reason to—” At which point I definitely fell in the town well again. This time, I was quite stuck.

3) The time that I was retelling the story of how I got stuck in the town well that other time, and I proceeded to over-reenact the whole thing. As I was telling this story to my friend Damien, a boy with a bicycle with pegs, my mother said, “Stop going to the bad well.” I instantly flipped the fuck into the fucking town well.

4) The second time I fell in the town well. I was most embarrassed about this instance.

5) The time that I wasn’t even that stuck in the town well, so fuck you mom.

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