Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Magic 8 ball fish
He's been staring up at me from the counter top- he had to go. Emma calls him puffy, I call him creepy; but strangely, if I stare into his plastic googley eyes long enough I find the answers to life's questions. (He came to our house second hand- courtesy of the boy next door.)
Like what is that smell that wafts through the kitchen every time I open the refrigerator door? It's like a stink demon ghosting through the house, chasing me with gag inducing powers. It was the salad Emma made, old and stinky and uneaten. It came to my brain, a clear picture of the offending bowl, as I was looking into those unmoving eyes.
And will my traitor elbow ever bend the right way again? It was pain and torture part 2 today- much less painful, and good news- the elbow in question is not, in fact, frozen. Which means that one day, in the future I will most likely have full use of the arm restored.
I also was informed that I should attempt swimming tonight- those eyes, full of answers I tell you. It's like having a spiky 8 ball that talks right to your soul, and has disturbing eyes. Did I mention the eyes yet?
So maybe creepy stuffed puffer fish can stay, since he is answering all of these epic questions for me. In her room though- then I can visit him, and hear the advice from the fish, but won't have to feel the dead stare of it on my back.