Though I am merely on the short side of average, I do believe my limbs are disproportionately small, which seems to be a family trait. As I mention over on Small Peculiar, my family name alludes, in the original German, to our tendency toward modest stature, and the only Teeth ever to attain six feet in height was my great-aunt Alice, who doesn't count because she married into the family. Also, that thing with the toilet paper really happened, much to my embarrassment.
In high school my pal Vince used to call me "Stretch" or occasionally "Short Stack." Vince is a jerk. A six-foot-two-inch jerk.
I have since changed the Redactor's name to Lauren Ipsum.
Jeremy is the worst muse ever:
I found this on the back of a Bread Loaf thing, so I guess I was having some feelings about that. You'd think he could remember knives of all words.
Finally, a public service announcement:
It's true, you know. Every now and again I will make sure that I can touch my chin to my chest, just so I know I have one less thing to worry about.