13 September 2012

Sidemouth, snaggle toothed unicorn wings and the squirrel portions.

Otterpop is here at the biggest, oldest tree in the forest. It's over 1000 years old and 39 feet in circumference and 253 feet tall. That is older than Santa, wider than the vats of beer they hoard in caves, and taller than if you stacked 40 Republican delegates with eyes closed in reverent prayer for ladies' wombs on top of each other, carefully glueing feet to shoulders to make sure they don't take off in to the skies like winged unicorns for Jesus.

This is Gustavo's snaggletooth. He's showing you here how he can look like a totally bad ass sharky face. Or a sidemouth unicorn. Those are the kinds that can come up on you in your blind spot and spear you through the eye socket. Some day, he'd like to fly into a wood paneled Congressional hearing on something or other, and flutterbye around the room, just out of reach of the Security's nets. When they call in the plastic helmeted tactical soldiers and their cannon shooters, he would tap his unicorn wings three times and fly out on the sunbeam coming through the rose window high above the first magistrate's head.

Otterpop is here on the huge tree that broke off on the top and got chainsawed into smithereens on the side of the gulch. It makes her think that she sure does waste a lot of time, spinning around on the wrong track then laying in a hole, when any time, SMACK, the top of any tree, anywhere, could just splinter down right on her head and everything would be done, right at that moment. Or they could come after her with the chainsaws, smithereen her into tiny, furry chunks. Like the squirrel body we found the other day, all in clean single serving portions, carefully placed in a tupperware basin of spring water. The skull was scrubbed to perfection, but the legs and knuckles still had fur and claws. All done.

They are all lying here waiting. I don't know what to say about that. You wait your turn, you wait for the right moment, you wait for the water to boil. Then you turn around one day and you realize, Shit. I'm still waiting. And the circus parade is passing by outside the window so fast it's just a blur then it's gone. You totally missed it. Monkeys and all.


maryclover said...

Wow! Can I have what you're having? All we did this morning was go to the park so Scout could wade in the creek, Zane could roll in something's leavings and Spur could run till the dew made her wet all through.

Mary, I want to be in your English Composition class.

jodi, eh? said...

This post is sad and depressing. It is also a bit horrific. Did you know that Canada recently did a big study on responses to abstract paintings? They had many groups doing alternate things before looking at abstract art. One group worked out, one watched funny movies, one ate a delicious meal, one had a nap, and so on. The only group who had any interesting and insightful things to say about looking at the abstract paintings had just watched horror movies....
coincidence? I think not.

team small dog said...

I always like to eat snacks before I look at abstract paintings! And I like to eat snacks before I have a nap or go to horror movies or have a delicious meal!

Mary S, don't get kicked out of English teaching!

Jenn said...