shawnt
I forgot the straw!
I just remembered this when I saw the prompt. You see, I've been making smoothies most days recently, but had just a bit ago went to stay with my dad.
I brought the smoothie mix, the ice cream, the strawberries. I forgot the straw!
How will I drink it now?
We needed a sea chart. So we printed out a copy, and made the measurements on the paper. Wrong paper of course. So we taped it to the window and traced it onto some glue paper. s we pealed the tape off the glass, I wondered how long the residue would last. When would it be cleaned? How many people have taped to that window before?
One day I was driving downtown when a cop pulls me over. He asks to see what's in my trunk. I pop it open. It's an elephant I smuggled in. He releases the elephant, only to have it smash down tree trunks in it's rage, it's trunk flailing wildly. I put on my swim trunks and dive into the lake to get some seaweed.
I went to him asking him to fix it. He laid down his glasses, looked me in the face, then went over to it. And it was fixed. I then proceeded to break it again. And I think he knew I would in the first place.
Aghast! How dare he? They said what? Number TWO?
I look up and down, across the stars and the numbers, to see the real. See how my hard work, my sweat and grief have been condensed into a number. A number. Is that really expressive? Is that really...art?
The crowed stares, amazed in wonder at the spectacle before them. The clowns run about, the ladies pose elegantly, and the speaker announces the winner. And when it is all over, the community is better. Safer. Richer.
The blaze sounds the triumphant return of the gladiator. The touch shows us the true way, the progression of unity and the defeat of terror, hate, and Ultimate Darkness. Let us raise it to lofty heights so that the world will know of its grandeur!
What is the purpose of out insignificant attempts to cultivate a civilization, bind together as one people? We sow and harvest, drill and forge, read and vote. Is this a staple of our ways, a staple that connects us, or a staple that pierces our inner souls and rips us apart?
How... quaint the little cottage was. Nestled in the groves of towering pines and crackling brooks. With its tucked away china cabinet, antique tea table, and pastel walls.
Repetition. Repetition. Repetition. It's what make the world, right?
But it's the differences that define us. Standing out of conformity, a one amidst the zeros. This gives way to color. To life. To Joy.
But then why is it that patterns are a source of pleasure, of serenity and peace to our wandering minds?
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