Damaged goods

I am a wise, and wise-cracking, pterodactyl, in a dinosaur-themed Easter story my niece wrote, but I'm not feeling so awesome.

I went to my actual doctor this past week because my head issues remain. She said I could work but recommended telework for a month.

Telework is more relaxing, to be sure, I can wear sweats and shorts, and get up later. But no one is here  to keep me from thinking bad thoughts. Plus, the longer I am gone the easier it is for guys to use the wheelchair stall with impunity. Not that my presence stops them.

So I am alive, just damaged. I'd rather be cracking wise.