180 Days Old = Old Enough For An Inner Monologue

1

September 30, 2009 by skwishface

What are these fascinating things? Caretaker! Identify these items immediately, for they thrill me! … Ah, “feet”, you say? AMAZING!

Yes, place me upon my throne so that I might survey my subjects from a lofty height. The sight of your faces gathered ’round the table amuses me. Carry on!

WHAT is this device that is thrust so unwontedly upon my person? It is like a toy, but the end is coated in a strange and mystical substance. Ah well, nothing for it but to run it through the Foreign Object Analyzer. You may refer to the FOA as my “mouth”, Caretaker, if it makes you happy. To-may-toe, to-mah-toe.

Oh my! The mystical substance tastes of starlight and moonbeams and pure bliss! Caretaker! What do you call this angel’s brew of delight? … Ah, “sweet potatoes” you say? MAGNIFICENT! I shall devour it entire.

I cannot help but assume the potency of the “sweet potatoes” has lent me superhuman abilities. I can sing! My voice soars to heights of volume as yet unexplored. I have the strength of a thousand men and the laws of physics do not apply to me. Toys will be shaken ceaselessly. I can stand on my own two feet for hours on end. Caretaker! Assist me to stand! For hours on end! My wakefulness knows no bounds. I SHALL CONQUER THE NIGHT!

Oh. I seem to have dozed off. I find this very upsetting. Very loudly upsetting. Caretaker! I wish to no longer be upset. Make it so!

Have I ever told you how comfortable I find your lap to be, Caretaker? Truly. It’s not that I’m tired, it’s just that my skull suddenly weighs a great deal more than it did a moment ago. Did I mention that your hair is soooooo pretty and lovely to lazily run through my fingers in a last-ditch effort to avoid sleep? Caretaker, you’re the best.

Now don’t you dare move.

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One thought on “180 Days Old = Old Enough For An Inner Monologue

  1. kittenz says:

    How blessed you are to be her Caretaker. You shall have the royal title of “mother” for the rest of your life!

    Ah, motherhood! It is a high and holy calling. Best job I ever had!

    Squeeze her gently for me.

    “Nite, nite. Sleep tight. And don’t let the zimperumpazoos bite.” (from Mercer Mayer’s book, Just Go To Bed)

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