Saturday's Storyteller: "This is a very angry avocado."
by Belinda Roddie
This is a very angry avocado. You can tell it is angry because its skin is creased into a big green frown. If you were to cut it open and make guacamole out of it, it would probably yell at you. This avocado has not had a very good day. You might as well give it some space.
Next to it is an anxious artichoke. It is anxious because it knows that soon, one hot and dry evening, it will be put in a pot of water and steamed. At first, it will feel like a blissful sauna, but afterwards, it will become akin to the sermons told about the bubbling cauldrons of Hell itself. Then it shall be stripped of each limb, eaten bit by bit, as if drawn and quartered. And served with mayonnaise. This artichoke has attempted to downplay its anxiety by curbing its long-term thinking. It has had little success.
Beyond the counter, there are eager eggs that are actually excited to be consumed. They love the idea of both inner and outer transformation. They see things from a very spiritual perspective. To be scrambled is like getting one's mind reconfigured to explore the world in a different way. To be hard boiled is to gain determination and rightful stubbornness. To be fried is to flatten out, and consequently, broaden one's sunny horizons. And to be converted into an omelet, with tomatoes and green onions and peppers and cheese - well, that's just delicious.
In the corner of the refrigerator is the moody milk. It is moody because people say nasty things about it these days. Years ago, it was renowned, nay, legendairy for its great nutritional powers. Want strong bones? Milk could do it. Bigger stature? Bring on the cow. Calcium was the magic word. Now it's all about having too much sugar. Not even skim can catch a break, so it sulks, hardly used except to flavor coffee or tea. It would find happiness again if only the health nuts backed off.
I have too much emotional food and beverage in the house. I get so invested that it's hard to eat or drink them all. But I never have trouble consuming a belligerent bison burger. That bastard had it coming, with his toxic attitude and lack of sportsmanship. Prepare to be devoured, buffalo. Nom, nom, motherfucker.
This week's prompt was provided by Arden Kilzer.
This is a very angry avocado. You can tell it is angry because its skin is creased into a big green frown. If you were to cut it open and make guacamole out of it, it would probably yell at you. This avocado has not had a very good day. You might as well give it some space.
Next to it is an anxious artichoke. It is anxious because it knows that soon, one hot and dry evening, it will be put in a pot of water and steamed. At first, it will feel like a blissful sauna, but afterwards, it will become akin to the sermons told about the bubbling cauldrons of Hell itself. Then it shall be stripped of each limb, eaten bit by bit, as if drawn and quartered. And served with mayonnaise. This artichoke has attempted to downplay its anxiety by curbing its long-term thinking. It has had little success.
Beyond the counter, there are eager eggs that are actually excited to be consumed. They love the idea of both inner and outer transformation. They see things from a very spiritual perspective. To be scrambled is like getting one's mind reconfigured to explore the world in a different way. To be hard boiled is to gain determination and rightful stubbornness. To be fried is to flatten out, and consequently, broaden one's sunny horizons. And to be converted into an omelet, with tomatoes and green onions and peppers and cheese - well, that's just delicious.
In the corner of the refrigerator is the moody milk. It is moody because people say nasty things about it these days. Years ago, it was renowned, nay, legendairy for its great nutritional powers. Want strong bones? Milk could do it. Bigger stature? Bring on the cow. Calcium was the magic word. Now it's all about having too much sugar. Not even skim can catch a break, so it sulks, hardly used except to flavor coffee or tea. It would find happiness again if only the health nuts backed off.
I have too much emotional food and beverage in the house. I get so invested that it's hard to eat or drink them all. But I never have trouble consuming a belligerent bison burger. That bastard had it coming, with his toxic attitude and lack of sportsmanship. Prepare to be devoured, buffalo. Nom, nom, motherfucker.
This week's prompt was provided by Arden Kilzer.
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