I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.
Thursday, 21 July 2011
When Esmeralda Tried out the New Tyre-Pump...
We couldn't pry her away from it, until she collapsed, convulsing, moaning, and muttering gibberish. When she revived, straight away, she was pumping again, her face flushed, brow moist, eyes glassy. If anybody suggests she's pumped enough tyres for today, she snarls at them in a most unladylike way, clutching the handle, rocking back and forth, trying to bite anyone who comes close.
I've sent for the veterinary surgeon, to shoot her with a tranquilising dart.
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