Sunday, 29 May 2011


His fat little boy hand clutched the stick of gum. It had grown soft and malleable from the combination of sweat and heat radiating forth from his plumpness. He shoved it into his fat little boy mouth as saliva permeated this sweet morsel. Later that day he choked to death. Gum was his demise.

The young gentleman with side swept hair was a layered individual. He wore an unpresuming dress shirt done up to the highest botton. On top of that was a demure sweater. They all hated his many layers and I called him up to tell him so. Maybe if he wasn't so robotic.

Habits formed in him habitually. And he couldn't break them as easily as one would hope. They called him Habit Harry, and rightly so. He was always bogging the rest of us down. He cleared his nose nine times daily. It was a habit of his. I found it got in the way of my quiet time.

Someone once told me to always be prepared in life. How could I? I carried a pink casket of mace everyday and never used it. One night at dinner I realised my meal was lacking a kick. My cupboards were bare. I thought of the spicy liquid that had been sloshing around in its coffin for years, underutilized. I thought maybe the worst thing one could ever be in life was underutilized, and so I donned a mask. I lightly misted the dish and then sprayed a little more. Perhaps it had lost its gusto with time. And with one bite it felt as if I had been punched in the back of the throat by the robust leg of a kangaroo. How should one prepare for that? 

Saturday, 21 May 2011


"Oh, these summer nights" Jeremy sighed like steam pouring forth a pot full of steam. He was one cool cat and wasn't the only one who noticed. Real relaxed, Jeremy was a surfer who had never been surfing. Maybe, if he lived anywhere near a body of water, he would have tried it...or maybe not. That's how he was. Besides, he was much too busy with his somehow both extraordinary and common, spectacular yet insignificant, phenomenal but unremarkable hobby of collecting and inspecting cow dung. What was it that drew Jeremy to cow dung like a moth to a big pile of cow dung? Plenty.

Sandy would watch him through a crack in the barn wall. The way he touched each trace with his tender fingers...she would give anything to be that dung, so soft in his hands.

Sometimes, on days when she was feeling especially brazen, Sandy would dab a bit of dung on her shirt and casually walk by, hoping to grasp Jeremy's attention. But it was the dung he loved, and a dunged up shirt could never shake his focus. Everyone knew it except Sandy. That was why, over the past three years, she had been developing a specimen that was sure to rattle Jeremy to his very core. It was the biggest, varnished with shellac, pile of cow dung you had ever seen.

What about this pile of pooh would jolt Jeremy into noticing Sandy? Maybe the fact that the precious droppings were trapped inside a thick, impenetrable wall of varnish, would break his heart. He would never be able to trust a load of dung again. Maybe the pure magnitude of it would change the way he thought about the world, leading him to believe that there's something bigger out there. Either way, Sandy was prepared to catch his fall. And so the day finally came.

Sandy placed her creation by the North facing fence (the first place Jeremy would look when he woke up in the morning) and hid behind the big oak tree. Sweat was pouring down her face as her heart rate climbed. How would Jeremy react? Would he burst into tears? Would she have to hold him close as she assured him that she would always be there?

And then it happened. A creak as the barn door swung upon. Jeremy stretched his arms up to the morning sun and began to walk his usual path. He saw something by the fence that sent a wave of satisfaction through his slight body. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a fresh specimen baggy and kneeled down to examine his find. Sandy felt lightheaded and could faint at any moment. It felt like everything she had ever dreamt and hoped for was wrapped up in this one moment. And with one quick stab to her heart, Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

"Whooaaa" he cooly chuckled, "cowadunga". And he switfly walked back inside.