I have a finger up my nose and I am humming a favorite melody. Not bad for table talk… for my digits are neither long nor extended…but allegedly…stubby and fed by a dissymmetrical blade. I am unsure about the specifics…as such allegories are rarely nostril friendly…much like the reviews of my companionship. The detractors are stuffy…high pitched…and…well…irretrievably nasal. I loath all of this chatter, tied to the summit of my face. Perhaps if the octave could be lowered, the future would be more about a healthy contrast and less about the habits of the bleak. I ate all of the food, even the envelopes that you spilled on. I drank all of the water, and in my travels…even managed to moisten the dandruff in your hair. Looks like someone else…is also not so perfect. Have you heard the twang of a guitar, crying in the rain? Grouping words and reflections are becoming a banner of unintentional refrain. Yet…it is so emblematic of our pod…that I am more than willing to fetch the longest shovel before receiving payment for the metaphoric debate. I can hold a tune though, but you think everything is a purr. Is there a moral equivalent to the heretical arrogancy of a standstill? Perhaps you can just accept the inaptness of my paw… as the savior of the incongruent…or should we merely focus on unearthing a sonorous conversation…and the veracity of its airy, pointed claims?

Sitting on the couch this morning, the air was cold and my breathing was light. I had judgements to make, so my internal clock told me to rest a little longer. The house was buttoned up tight, but I could still see my breath in the center of the sliding glass door. Outside, the trees were shiny and new, and the bushes leapt every time I felt an itch upon my tail. I suppose that was normal. In a moment of weakness, I included my human. He was playing with the remote, while balancing his coffee. I told myself that this was the last time I would ever be sympathetic. And then it was quiet again. The tenth year was mostly just a series of gray blurs and generic smells, however, year number two felt as rough as the tiny notches on my tongue and as curious as a thought that thumps the skull, and then turns around without a concept to display. I was not at a loss…only a little flustered. Perhaps, there was just too much gravy waiting on my plate. I squirmed away from the pillow and the blanket, it was nice…last night I had been appreciated. Much later, I would lose the remote and then knock the coffee over. I suppose that too was normal. Year number three might not be here soon enough…beyond the thumping…………………..I counted myself amongst the ellipsis of the leaves.

If this is what you want to do…then don’t. That way…the disappointment will constantly be familiar…but hey…there is always a little more toothpaste trapped inside the cap. Squeeze harder and your nipples may tingle. Free your mind or sue the manufacturer. Either way, the caution will no longer be the supplier…and the debutant will never flop.

The darkness was everywhere…most specifically between the clefted knuckles of my right and left hands. Strangely, there was a loitering cloud of light that occasionally found its way into the edge of the right eye. It was as casual as the look from a stranger, after you had mistakenly turned and realized that you were still waiting on your friend. The trees blew hard, in a close distance, perhaps to offer a clue as to why the journey had commenced, more than likely to hide their own culpability, as all tracks remained inaccessible and remote. Maybe they just wanted you to turn, this time… all you found was the beaten path. Thankfully, opinions never managed to stay rooted to just one place. Soon, the worries became as light as the breeze that gently carried them away. The screen door quickly opened and then just as quickly…snapped shut. It was not hot, but it was not cool either. The drops of liquid were hitting the highest plains of my feet. The ice was gone and now my glass was completely full. The taste would be dull, but all good signs remained intact. If being left unattended meant one could increase its presence…then no errors had been made. Never again would I care if the stranger hugged me back.