I'm going to keep writing this, curse all of you who aren't reading it. Not even my own sister. Which means I could talk about her, I guess. But then if I did she'd choose that one time to be the first time she read it. And I'd feel awful. So I won't.
But despite having zero readers, I am still going to write. Because I have to practice somewhere, yes?
So...I have worms. Not me personally, I mean I now have a vermicomposting box with five hundred little red wriggling friends who are busy turning scraps into soil. How very clever of them. The purchase of worms to deal with kitchen waste if part of the mini-Kyoto accord me myself and I made.
Do I talk to the wormies? Of course. Have I named them? No. Because there are five hundred of them. Which the girl fears will somehow (and for no given reason) escape from their little earth world and come to get her in the night. Which isn't going to happen, anymore than elves are going to clean the house in the night.
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3 comments:
I read it. So, really, you're writing for me. And I like worms. Of course now I'm going to tell the girl wild stories of how worms can open containers and eat out your eyes while you sleep.
So I can tell you all the horrible things about people we both know, firm in the belief that you're my reader?
Although I did get someone from Europe reading it because they had Googled...Zooglies.
No, I don't see the connection.
thank you for not naming your worms. how can people fish if they put "fluffy" on the hook. I think people read lots of blogs but do not comment, but maybe that's just me.
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