It's nice here in the dark. Okay, it isn't completely dark. Outside, the moon, dull behind heavy clouds, casts her grey glow over the slush and snow, and inside, digital numbers glow greenly. The refrigerator hums mechanically and the furnace clicks on and off and the house settles in creaks but otherwise the world, my world, here, is still and dark.
What's that, Bear?
You're right, of course. You're always right. When the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan, I know I can always proverbially count on you.
As an aside, is "I know I can always count on you" a proverb? Doesn't there need to be a lesson in proverbs, some sort of Confucius-esque wisdom? By that definition, "when the shit hits the fan" probably also doesn't qualify. There is no wisdom in shit.
Ah, there goes the furnace.
Oh, hey, Marigold. It's late. What are you doing up? What's that? You couldn't sleep, either? What can possibly be going on in that stuffed-cotton head of yours that keeps you up at night?
Man, you said it, sister. Come here. I want to squeeze the stuffing out of you. You don't mind, do you? I promise to sew it back in later.
Thanks, I really needed that.
Sometimes I wish Humpty and Dumpty weren't just giant heads with feet. I feel like destroying something. Ripping those pathetic little arms and legs off just won't do. No wonder you and Bear always kick their asses. Who the fuck can race with legs like that? Just between you and me, Marigold, I don't know how they keep smiling. Is there some bit of eggy wisdom they possess that they just don't want to share? If you ever get one of them alone, see what you can find out, okay?
You know, it's a good thing we can communicate telepathically because I hurt my throat this afternoon. Screaming at traffic. Rage and fear and frustration erupting out of me in a black metal howl. It caught me a little off-guard, to tell you the truth. It wasn't just the traffic.
Yeah, I know, Bear. It's just hard sometimes. If my insides were stuffing, it'd be easier. We're messy, we humans. Blood and spunk and puke and tears and snot and shit, not to mention all the slippery insides you can't see. You've got it easy, trust me.
What's that, Bear?
Yeah. I will. I promise.
Okay, listen, you two, I can tell by the little hand that it's almost 3 o'clock in the morning, and I really should try to get some sleep. Come on, I'll tuck you in.
There. How's that? Snug as two bugs in a rug. If you see the Polkaroo, tell him I said hi, okay? Good night. Sleep well. We can play again tomorrow.