Have you ever been eating something, like a bear crawler, no it's a bear "claw," and had to go ~ had to go?
Had to go?
And so you went in there and sat down?
With your bear?
And it's like a parallax, or whatever, where planets line up? One on this side of this sun and the other behind it? Food on one side of the system and waste on the other?
And you could get electrocuted? Short out?
You get mysterious feelings?
"I could become a conduit."
"My guts might fall out."
"Hmmm. Is this dangerous? This could be dangerous? Something ....."
Well ~ you're sure your mother wouldn't approve, there's that ~ but that's true with a lot of things and you do them without even thinking of her ~ no, there's some kind of proximity here. Apples and pesticides. Apples and leaves. Oranges and sunlight. Turkeys and soil. Some sort of alignment.
Maybe you should just throw it in the toilet.
Or wait.
Just don't get up for a day or two, and save some effort.
"Always wind up back here anyway."
"Might as well cut out the meaningless part of life."
And there's Food Fear; like hold it up higher. "This food is within four feet of bacteria. Bacteria froggicus."
Bring it down like a rescue helicopter, to mouth level.
Zzzzzip; fly off quickly.
Must finish before pulling pants up.
Which leads to face-stuffing; particularly scarilegious, hereupon.
Or park claw in snout and wait til after washing, although that whole process is suspect. AND, if anyone sees you come out of the batroom with a claw part in your mouth, they'll know you went in there with it.
"Ewww."
"Nohweally," you protest, blowing claw-frosting detritus ~ and you snatch it out, and dump it in the basket. (Don't touch "food;" even though your just-washed hands are scientifically as bacteria-free as they'rew going to be all day ~ everbody knows germs are a Visual Lifeform anyway ~ just lean over and let loose.) Fewwff. (Especially if there's a foot-pedal fliplid.) (Recovery points.)
Going in there with a beer in your hand is weird. Gives you pause. Beer thinking pause. You can't just pour it out, pour it in there, because it has to be strained, and the precious intoxicants removed.
It all seems kind of primitive.
Really puts beer drinking in its primitive perspective.
Why not just get the intoxicants in a box? Skip the filtration? Save organs maybe?
I think there's a name for this phenomena.
Has to be.
Lather?
Coby?
I know what Fred's going to say.
"It's called time on your hands." |
