Ok, I did it. I tore the tag off my pillow. I have no excuse except maybe my self-diagnosed OCD, ADHD and prolly a few other mental/emotional quirks caused by Youngest Child Syndrome, my narcissism and a few glasses of wine. I mean there it was, a law just asking to be broken and I couldn't help myself from defying the whole damn system. I mean, that's like putting a big "Do Not Push" button in front of me. Or a bowl of chocolate ice cream. What do you think is gonna' happen? Sure, leave the fox to guard the hen house and you'll come back to find an empty bowl of chocolate ice cream. That's what will happen. You've been warned.

So, let this written testimony serve as my... um... testimony. Or some legal jargon. I waiving my Miranda Rights.
'Cuz, I just know the Tag Police are going to be raiding my home to haul me off to my horrific fate at any moment now and I deserve it. That's right. I confess it all since I can no longer live with the horrific guilt of my horrific crimes. I admit it. I am a monster. For I have done this before. I am a serial tag tearer. The type nightmares are made of. Or at least b-grade, True Crime movies-of-the-week are made of. And they better get a damn good actress to play the role of me or I'm suing them all.
So, anyways, unless any of you know a good attorney who might try to get me out of it all on an insanity plea, I ask, How much time in prison do you think I'll get?

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