Today is a beautiful spring day. Mommy says it's Hitler's birthday and that makes it a creepy day, but I do not know enough history to really know who that is. Mommy has had "uncles" (I never call them that to their faces or even in my mind -- I only have eyes for Mommy!) that watch the History Channel, but I think it's all a little boring. So I decided to poke my head out the door. After my last failed attempt, my visit with Tickle Me Freud (a disaster -- that guy needs more help than I do), and a lot of drinking to clear my mind, I have decided to go a little slower. You don't have to do everything at once! God knows, I have a lot to think about, all that time in the clearance bin with the other loser toys that nobody wanted and then my rescue at the hands of Mommy. I remember that day -- a beautiful spring day like this one. Mommy was with her friend, my Aunt Angela and a couple of other people, and she noticed me right away. Mommy wore a black summer dress with butterflies on it and high-heeled sandals that made her even taller than she already is. I don't know if she's really tall or not; everybody is tall compared to me. When she picked me up, I knew she would buy me and take me home. She showed me to her other friends who made nice noises and said things like, If you really want it, I guess. Nobody really supported my adoption except Mommy. That's one of the many reasons we are so close besides sharing interests like sleeping and drinking and reading books and thinking about the past.
I got as far as putting my head out the door. That's not too bad. The sun is pretty bright. Mommy hates sunshine and refuses to go outside on nice days except in rare cases. She loves being inside with me. The few times we have gone outside together, I was okay, except once where she dropped me on the ground. I can't even talk about it! But I will. As soon as I go outside to regain the piece of my soul. For now, I'm going back to bed. It's much too nice to be out for long.
6 comments:
You have a wonderful sense of irony, Grouchie! Tres bien! Your love of the past will come in handy some day and you can use the past to be a great writer, like your mommy. Au revoir, Grouchie!
Zis cood be zee symbol of zee guillotine in zees porte, eh? Mon dieu!
You can come over to my house if your mom ok's it. I have a funny hat you'd like. It says, "Women love me--Fish fear me."
My daddy told me a long long time ago, "Son, it's three squares and tear." I guess it don't matter if it's double ply. Remember that, so's your momma won't have to make all them trips to the store late at night.
Kid if you want to stay inside during the day then I suggest, you freakin stay inside during the day because we can't have that nasty sunlight making your green skin fade to a shade slightly darker than pea soup.
so I have only one suggestion for you and it is not a writing suggestion but a mental attitude suggestion...fear nothing especially not the night or what comes out in only the night.
Hey Oscar. Your mommy can help you get over that fear. She knows what the night can do--both to and for you--you need to take care and know every difference. You're one lucky grouch to have a mommy who writes like she's her own language. Keep those eyes on her, Oscar (as if you need told). Watch over her for us and tell her your thoughts often, as you provide an innocent and very ironic counterpoint to her artistic voice--and to her, really... she's no grouch.
And whatever the muck you do, don't read the responses of half bit, one-liner alcoholics, already posted and toasted at 11:00 am. Nothing good will come of that.
Except me! Drunk people who talk to puppets at night are quite normal, I assure you. Ask mommy, she'll tell you.
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