And God love him for finding room for a smile on that impossibly voluptuous face of his. I have a theory that I could have given Rocky things that stupid blind lady couldn't ever give him. I mean, she couldn't even SEE! I'd make Rocky mixed tapes of Kenny G, Richard Marx, Amy Grant, and the sounds of the sweet breeze blowing through his crullet.
Despite his horrifying craniodiaphyseal dysplasia, Rocky had game. I mean, remember all his awesome poetry? It was so uplifting! Not once did he speak of his hideously disfiguring disease, the extremely rare autosomal recessive bone disorder that haunted the lives of any children, seniors, innocent bystanders or animals he came in contact with. No, Rocky was an optimist, damn it. And he was going to keep on, keepin on.
Stay gold, Rocky Boy.
3 comments:
That was a great film!
I remember when he taught the girl about colors by heating rocks or whatever, I threw the fuck up.
I just try not to zero in on his jaggedy teefs, and I can get past that lumpy skull.
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