Well, the time has come to move on. Since all five of you that read my blogs have been so loyal/accidentally clicked on my page while shitting, I’m giving an exclusive preview to all of you.
He descended the stairs in the darkness, sweat covering his upper lip. As each board creaked, his heart pounded harder and heavier. If he awoke the baby, the tiny monster would murder…his 12 minutes of free time he had before work. He tried not to breathe as he heard a slight moan from the child’s lair. Then silence. Silence like the calm before the storm. JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE! The damn dog was up and shaking her head! Oh the fates are cruel, indeed! All time stood still as the mangy beast panted, expecting to be taken on a run. “Shut up, you big dummy! Don’t wake the baby!” There were still milk bottles to be washed. So many poor bottles, consumed by the growing monster and discarded, as though they never existed. Lost souls, bewailing the end of innocence and youth, now must be scrubbed, resurrected and again sacrificed to the terrible ravenous hunger, calling for more sustenance.
He turned the corner and stumbled over a true horror – an empty laundry basket! There were unfolded clothes…his heart sank like stone. Despair reached up her cold hand and pulled all his hope into the abyss. The end was soon nigh. He sighed, ever so silently. MEOW! MEOW! The stupid cat was screaming – this means she is hungry or…brought a dead mouse in the house! Death was not swift for the vermin and neither was cleaning it up. “Is it legal to punch a cat?” he muttered to himself. Just as he grabbed the rodent, still warm, with a paper towel, pain! Pain like a thousand needle pricks shot up his foot! He resisted the urge to scream with an inner strength he knew not existed within his heart. There, staring back at him, was a hard plastic Parasauralophus. The expressionless face of the overpriced toy cared not for his suffering.
Well, that’s what I have so far, I ran of time because my son woke up because he had to poop. I’ll save that for the sequel. Not the poop, the story.
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