landofdave
"Yes, it's all very stressful," he said, "It's due soon and I have very little time, you see. Plus, I'm tired and have many other plans. I have a host of problems. I'm also having many guests over this evening and my caterer canceled, so I have a hosting problem as well!"
I feel that this is a very serious matter, and, quite frankly, I am both shocked and appalled at the jovial response you've made, as if hoping to make a mockery out of the choices and beliefs of others.
With every step, my body grew heavier. The weight seemed to spread itself around my body. Like iron doors unhinged, my eyelids became harder to keep in their rightful place. They want to fall down. My whole body wants to just, fall. Down.
I. Must. Get. Farther,
With each step, the burning in my shins increased in intensity, ever so slightly. I was breathing out, exhaling hot breath like a mega-factory exhales fumes. By the time I'd made it, there was a fire within my legs that did not want to be extinguished. Sitting down among colleagues, I began to, ever-so-subtly, massage my shins, hoping to quell the flames. It felt so good, but, looked so... wrong.
A small clatter escapes the space between old, wooden desk and cheap, plastic pen. Frustratedly, his restless fingers brush through his curly hair. After, perhaps, a few too many motionless seconds he tears up the pages in front of him. Nothing proceeds as though it was scripted.
Her paw lightly touched the faded yellow carpet, triggering a chorus of "aww" from her new owners. Gingerly, eyes freshly opened, she made her first few steps outside of the box of blankets that had, thus far, been her home.
"What a champion..." James commented sarcastically.
"Huh?" came Tim's distracted reply.
"You see this tosser in the '86 Laser, tribal decals all down the sides?"
"Oh, yeah. People still do that?"
"Yeah, I guess. You think it looks any good?" James asked.
"Nah." said Tim, resuming his work, "You?"
James thought for a second, "Nah, not at all."
I stare, perplexed and transfixed, at a dimly lit screen. Watching nothing happen, nothing at all, I wait. Maybe something will change, be it in me or on my screen. If it does, I'd hate to miss it.
Meanwhile, dreams uncaught float by, carried by the tides of time.
Genetics is a scientific word that means, physically, you're 50% your mother and 50% your father.
But, never forget, you'll always be 100% you.
What THAT means is up to you, not your genes.
You scratch your sudden itch. Not sure from whence it came.
But, as you try with all your might, the itch, it stays the same.
A horror slowly grows within you. "Whatever could this be?"
"Pleas, Oh God, whatever this is, let it not be fleas!"
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