Once upon a time there lived a lonesome woman. She grew tomatoes and dearly loved her garden full of light, delighting herself in all life that grew there. Daily she watched as the sun fed each fruit, her heart swelling with joy as they each bulged; as they did, so she grew.
One day just around the time the sun began to put itself to rest she came upon a large fruit ready for her basket. The sight of it filled her, for she felt simple and innocent in her garden as she bent over the tender ripe thing, and knelt. As was the daily routine of symbiosis between heart and her creation, the excitement washed over her - but today the sinking orange light hid the stirring shadow of what Satan himself embodied as he ascended from hell that day and settled into her garden—slithering out from a hidden worm hole bored clear to the core of the red fruit glowered a cold, metallic threat of death as the widow peered deep into her eyes, proclaiming telepathically:
Drop my house bitch—or die
posted sometime this month, july of 2008
about me
- gap
- Everything written here is "as is" without warranty of satisfaction nor promise of making sense.
