Talking walls
The boy turned and stared at the wall. And the wall stared back.
And spoke. ”What are you staring at?”
The boy was shocked. “What in the living #@$%?”
”Actuallythe #@$% isn’t living. And it gets very insulted when people claim that it is.”
“The #@$% isn’t living… and it gets insulted when people claim that it is? O-k, one of us is crazy, and it isn’t…”
Never mind. We’re both crazy.
”Really? I thought that guy over there was the crazy one.”
“… He’s crazier. We’re crazy.”
”Ok. You want some pizza?”
“Sure.”
Unfortunately, the wall wasn’t very good at eating pizza. More unfortunately, the boy’s parents wouldn’t accept his excuse for why the wall was stained with pizza, though they did wonder why there was a crazy guy standing in the corner, and what the wall was muttering to itself.
So obviously it was their fault that they didn’t realize the wall was cracked until it was too late and the vermin had already gotten in, and they had to serve them tea.
Do you know how much tea vermin drink? Neither do I, though I’d guess it’s rather little. Nonetheless, it’s probably rather annoying to have to serve them, and the boy’s parents weren’t interested.
And so it goes. How so? How does one sew? The boy’s rather enjoying figuring it out. Though he does wonder why he needs to do it.
-hyperbole out
No, I have no idea what this means either. It was fun to write though.
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