pg 48

June 18, 2009, 8:29 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

my pen doesn’t have anymore ink in it so i can’t write you that beautiful letter that i promised i’d write. i know, i know, i could write it here, then i could find a new pen, one that i didn’t care when it couldn’t flair i’s or cross 7’s in that oh so certain way i know you love, and i could write you a different letter giving you instructions how to find that beautiful letter with words that could make children run up the stairs (or down, depending on the layout of their specific house) and root around in their closets creating such a mess that their little hands would never be able to put the closet back together with the precision an adult could, only to try and find all the ‘dolls’ or ‘action figures’ and once they found them, bolting up! from their knees, kicking around the closet mess with their excited feet, and running right back downstairs to their mothers (‘)(or fathers(‘), or guardians, depending on the layout of their specific family) and trying to get their mothers to swallow the ‘dolls’ or ‘action figures’ in hopes that the toys will go down their mothers’ throats the ‘wrong way’ much like juice or pop sometimes does and the toys will end up in wombs instead of stomachs. and then 9 months later, the mothers will birth out these toys and not notice the plastic placentas trailing after. and of course the mothers will say no to their children ‘i’m never doing that’ but the children will use their problem solving skills. they will put on problem solving hats that have already been decorated. that’s why the hats aren’t allowed in the messy closets. if they were, would anyone expect anything other than complete and utter anihilation/destruction/crumpling of the hats. no.

but thankfully, these hats and those closets have never met. so put on your cap. and ask your mom(s) (dad(s), guardian..) if they would let you take those dolls and melt them. and then ask if you could cut them up when they’re still soft and (still soft) take them and put them in favourite food so that maybe, they would make it wombside.

that’s how beautiful my words would be. but i ran out of ink.


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