The Nonsensical Nature of 5

Sound, asleep, breathes low, breathes deep - a rumbling breaks through his chest; gentle sighs morph into gargled snores, a melody of his tumultuous rest.

Sight, enraged, elbows him hard, “shut it,” he says, eyes dark and unfeeling; restlessly he blinks once, and then twice, as he stares, wide awake, at the ceiling.

Touch, who’s sensitive to the movement, of the 5 exhausted brothers in bed, is emotional and rather touchy at this hour, and smacks both Sight and Sound in the head.

Taste, however, just lies there flaccid, grinding his teeth and twitching his jaw - there’s a bad taste between these brothers, of late; he’ll bite the heads off of these pestering 4.

But Smell, as unsubtle as ever, lightens the mood, breaks them apart, attacks silently and with a pinch of his nose - they all bolt upright, “did somebody just fart?”