Date with Destruction
January 23rd, 2012
“I used to be cool but now I’m this guy.”
I am soft. I must be because right now I’m staring at a bag of stuff that needs to be shipped off to the nearest charity shop and I can’t. It’s brimming with Reuben’s toys that he used to play with when he first started coming to mine about four and a half years ago. There’s Mega Blocks and a toy piano and a small cash register that he used to steal the money from because he’s obsessed with fiscal gain. How the time flies! Now he’s seven and trying to steal my real money from my pocket whenever he offers a pretend hug. The bag is sandwiched between my desk and the window and I reckon that my big, spongey heart and sentimental attitude will prevent me from moving it for another six months or so. I want to keep them but what would I do with them? Where would they go? There’s less space in Audrey’s flat than there is in the average mouse’s fridge. Perhaps I’ll move them around between various different locations until I can find the stoney-faced resolve to part company.
Would you want a perfume and/or cologne that smelled of burnt toast? Obviously if you were looking to eat toast you would want unburned toast however it occured to me that perfumes are to make you feel nice. What would be nicer than the scent of your favourite food? It wouldn’t necessarily have to be blackened toast it could be tomato sauce, pineapple or that lovely fresh bread smell you only get in remote English villages. If we could find a way to bottle that sh*t then I think it would be a best seller.
I have envelopes; I’m prepared for the worst now.