Old Clocks Run Off Acid Fluid and Batteries
Four
Zooey, having found an instruction manuel - thank you God - has resorted to flipping idly through glossy pages not really paying attention. She's more of an learn it yourself kind of girl. Which many find odd.
Which we find unfathomable.
It was more of a "passer by" kind of flip through. She didn't really want to learn how to use this, It. Only because then she would have to succumb to the needs and wants of what comes with such an odd package
And she was not one for succumbing.
Especially not to packages that carry an it, and not the kind of it that involve grade schools eliciting childish giggles and rampant of vicious "shhing" in vain of trying to keep the it a secret.
Which, indeed, is very hard to do, as every little girl is disgusted at the thought of such an atrocious thing as a male genital. But wants everyone to know of the evilness of such a disgusting tool. Forgive the pun, if you could call it that.
God forbid.
And here comes that timeless question that keeps sanity slipping through grasps and insanity slipping through, where has time gone?
We all remember, or not so clearly, how we would whisper behind our hands, wondering what's going to happen in the future, then wanting to turn back when the future comes. What happened to the times when we would listen to our parents tell stories of their childhood, and not get annoyed? What happened to ourselves? Why did we change so drastically, or not so?
And dear God, can we go back?
Which we find unfathomable.
It was more of a "passer by" kind of flip through. She didn't really want to learn how to use this, It. Only because then she would have to succumb to the needs and wants of what comes with such an odd package
And she was not one for succumbing.
Especially not to packages that carry an it, and not the kind of it that involve grade schools eliciting childish giggles and rampant of vicious "shhing" in vain of trying to keep the it a secret.
Which, indeed, is very hard to do, as every little girl is disgusted at the thought of such an atrocious thing as a male genital. But wants everyone to know of the evilness of such a disgusting tool. Forgive the pun, if you could call it that.
God forbid.
And here comes that timeless question that keeps sanity slipping through grasps and insanity slipping through, where has time gone?
We all remember, or not so clearly, how we would whisper behind our hands, wondering what's going to happen in the future, then wanting to turn back when the future comes. What happened to the times when we would listen to our parents tell stories of their childhood, and not get annoyed? What happened to ourselves? Why did we change so drastically, or not so?
And dear God, can we go back?
♠ ♠ ♠
Not much relevancy.What some would call a filler?
I'm not sure,
but I was fairly depressed when I wrote this,
thanks to two certain girls who shall remain
unnamed.
I was listening to Hush by Automatic Loveletters
when writing this.