My love, Echinoia Eeeps, and, in fact, her whole family, has invited me to be the celebrity dessert at their winterfest, held just outside the swine shed, under the barren oak tree. I kinda think not, this year. Some of them are convinced that I'm mostly composed of sugar and spice and raspberry shortcake, which is interesting though I prefer not to be dismembered and eaten if avoidable, having both a definite allergy to toothbites as well, and a few plans for the future, but we'll see how it goes. Maybe.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has been begging me to take flying lessons. If I take to the air, she says, she'll be able to sharpen her anti-aircraft skills — maybe snag a medal at the Domestic Partner Shoot-Em-Up Olympics. Maybe.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has taken a softer turn lately. Instead of machine-gunning roses that don't measure up, she is feeding them to her pet rhinoceros, and making the remaining blooms watch. So they know. What the score is.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is now asleep. She's been at it for 43 hours running. Wants to become expert at hibernation so's she can just sleep past the inevitable collapse of civilization and become the founder of a whole new line of super-humans. So far she hasn't mentioned my role in any of this, though I am hoping to inherit her industrial-size freezer of ice cream so to die happy while sitting around waiting for resurrection day. Or whatever.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, thinks it would be nice if I shut up for a while, like a month or two,she says. And possibly quit breathing to leave more air "for the rest of us who are trying to get things done." Using her pet hamster Fred as an example. Fred who died sometime in 1996 and is now mounted on a plaque. Whose reputation seems to keep rising, almost by the day. I'll have to think about it, is what I'm going to say when the time comes.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, won't let me near her machine gun. Says I'm likely to kill someone, and she prefers to handle that end of things herself.
Tactile Waldron Spliffy Eeeps, Echinoia's cousin stand-in stunt double, says that he wants to be my friend. Aside from his affection for decaying alligators (he has a collection, and even his own rot museum) he doesn't seem that bad, as her ersatz relatives go (most of whom I appreciate more than her certified ones), so I'm giving it some thought, but not a whole lot right now, at least during this century.
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Me? Currently hiding in my safe place.
