Exercises in reflection, with some emphasis on Life's dark ironies and subtle humors.
The Turd Adventures
The Beginning of Things for Turds Mr. Haneywoedle was born from Good Things one gloomy Thursday in October. By Good Things I mean peas, carrots, potatoes, broccoli, bananas, apples and apricots. Especially apricots - his Maker really loved those. For a turd, Mr. Haneywoedle was perfect – not too muscular and not too fatty. His texture and complexion were smooth and solid, and in length he was just above average.
Errol Hatch was penning a letter. He paused and looked up for a minute to think, and his gaze fell on Snickers. She was a cat, curled up in the bay window looking out onto the street. Errol noticed she was smashed into the window frame’s far right corner by now, whereas half an hour ago she’d been lumpily arranged right in its center. She was following the slipping sunlight across the sill and, of course, she did not move a muscle more than necessary in doing so.
Kettle Street was bursting at the seams with sunlight, butterflies and daisies showing off shamelessly. All of Life reclined happily and lazily in its natural state, for once wanting no mercy from Time. Everything here moved slowly, for the sun held Kettle Street as though suspended in a bottle of oil; turning it this way and that for its own amusement.