I just laid.
But in that time, my mind drifted. Now, I don't know about you, but when my mind begins doing this, insanity is about to unfold. Because, dear children, the dark recesses of OTHER people's minds equals the ENTIRETY of MY mind. And if you were to venture into uncharted territories, things get weeeiiirrrddddd.
Anyways, so there I was, laying there, completely still, the pair of penguins who are in charge of my Memories (who happen to wear sweaters because it gets chilly in mah brain cavity) busily shuffling through my old events. My soul disembodied itself from my body, and, dressed like Tom Sawyer and carrying a polka dot hobo satchel, Little Soul Me took the long, perilous journey from my heart up the Ribcage and to the brain. This is no easy task! There were monsters at every turn, hanging to the back alleys of my nerves and attacking viciously. BUT I MADE IT. So I went down the dim hallway of the center of my brain, hearing the constant sound of a printer and fax machine, until i came to a sign that said "THE LONG FORGOTTEN MEMORIES OF A CERTAIN GIRL". The penguins greeted me warmly.
It was a under-whelming sight. The filing department is horrible at it's job, I must say, the drawers of which the documents are kept are covered with cobwebs and the metal isn't well-oiled. And the carpet is so worn you can see the brain showing underneath. But nevertheless, the be-sweatered penguins diligently shuffle the papers.
*shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle *
*shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle*
*shuffle shuffle shuffle shuffle*
*shuffle shuffle *
and that, is the story of how i remembered my Uncle Mark breaking a $200 dollar vase in Florida and telling two year old me to neveer speak of it ever again. Until now.
|Are they not the most stylish memory-keepers ever? Yes, yes they are.|