My older brothers had a bunk bed, my little brother had his own bed and my sister and I shared a queen-sized bed.
We also shared countless hours of strange bedtime rituals: she would put on her school uniform (white blouse and brown plaid jumper) and pull her nightgown over it that was for early morning efficiency… I would skip the uniform step and go right to the nightgown.
I was so slow!
She would coat her arms in Elmer’s Glue,
I would dress and redress Raggedy Ann.
I don’t know if she shared my fear of the monster under the bed.
No, what am I saying? She did not. In fact, she created the fear!
Siblings can be so cruel.
She waited.
Collect them all (there’s only one) and store them safely in a polished mahogany box. Tabulated by topics, like: Division-of-Labor, Apology, and so much more!
Weren’t those lovely?
Once Upon A Time, I got a massage in September. It was from a hobbithe blessed the vessel that was me and scampered around the table like his footsies were on fire. When it was over, he requested a hug. I consented because I have never hugged a hobbit and I didn’t want to crush his tiny hobbit-heart.
I’m sure you knew that.
Ham!
Perhaps you recognize that man?
His pants are usually radioactive, but not for this card.
It was time to pry open the (heirloom-quality) tupperware lid. Time to expose the rotting and pungent living carcass to the unblinking eye of its critics.
Now, readership of the Zeichen Press blog hovers somewhere between cable-access viewership and meaningful Craigslist encounters.
