That's not his hand, that's Montague S. Caruthers' hand. He was standing to your left, but didn't want to be in the picture due to his grotesque facial features. He was severely burned in a fire accident when he was 7. You were there, as I recall; it was the Tuesday your mother had just gotten back from the Bahamas and she brought a new boyfriend Maxwell back with her, whom you despised. You've always pitied poor Caruthers, even though you secretly wish he'd go die in a hole somewhere on account of his rancid flatulence, which he feels the need to express in public at all times. Caruthers is a soft spoken man though, quick with a joke and slow to anger. But on the night you guys took that picture, he was roaring drunk, and you didn't want to embarrass yourselves (and him) by taking his picture while he was in such a state. Yes, that's definitely what happened. That's not Burn's hand at all.
we were born out of naked ladies most of wich have been a naked lady in close proximity to a naked man, then we spent nearly a year and sometimes more sucking on breasts. your prudish ways amuse me.
