The Meatloaf

Two olive eyes glare at me. I guess they're really more like spots. They belong to it. It being the thing my father keeps speaking of eating. We know all too well that he won’t. It’s obviously years past its expiration date. It’s at least eleven years old, the eleven year old meatloaf.

 I don’t recall when it started to lose the pan shape. Sometimes it looks vaguely square, but more often than not, it just... is. Shape is hard to describe once hair sprouts, long hair. It’s not all the same color. There’s orange, white, black, but mostly a variety of browns, ranging from a beige to a dark chocolate. Oh, did I mention that it has legs?

 It stalks around the house sometimes. Often, it follows me, making... noises, but it will also sit under my desk chair when I’m working, or just lounge on my bed, which is mostly what it does. In the night, I can hear it rumbling from somewhere in the dark. Waking up with its longest hairs up my nose, or in my ear, is not a favorite sensation.

 We’re not exactly certain if it is intelligent. Dad says it has the IQ of a tongue depressor. If it is remotely sapient, I believe that The Meatloaf is secretly plotting to take over the house, possibly the county. It might be interested in using us as a food source. It tastes me once a month or so, but its motives are unclear at this time. I’m certain it goes through the papers I leave out while I’m at school. It would, quite possibly, be unstoppable, if it had thumbs. 

We have lived peaceably, The Meatloaf and I, these many years. While it has sprouted teeth, nothing much comes from biting me or rubbing its drool or snot on my bare toes. I feed it because, honestly, I’m afraid of what it would eat if I didn’t. It will attack or even chase after our pets, and I will swat at it. Every once and awhile, I try to talk to it, but either it doesn’t understand or doesn’t care.

Improving The Day

Work has not been that great today. In the last two hours or so, I just wanted to throw things at my coworkers, preferably bananas. I fall asleep for ten minutes after my shift is officially over, then leave for home with a red shape on my forehead where it had pressed against my desk. I toss my paraphernalia on my bed, pull on my jacket, pick up my camera and mp3 player, and slip out the front door. It feels like October. The air is cool and lightly numbs my cheeks. I sit under the walnut tree and think. Tenth Avenue North drifts around in my head. I get so stressed sometimes. A breeze plays with a few loose curls, and I stand up. It isn't really blue today, the sky. It's more of a subtle grey, a calm neutral without the sun glaring at me. I step onto the path that encircles the lawn and runs alongside the fence and start walking. Lil-Bit dances in front of me, beside me, behind me. The silly little kitty won't let me pet her, but doesn't go far. Soon, Spirit, Sir. Sir-A-Lot, and Sparkle Spit join her. There's always one in sight, usually two or three. It's like they're watching me, making sure nothing happens to me. It reminds me. It felt like there was no control at work, no rules, just chaos, and that's never really true. There's always a steady hand that I can trust to lead me. I just have to reach for it and not let the world around me force me to let go, even for a moment. Christ is my corner stone, my foundation. This is a beautiful world, I just have to open my eyes and see it.

I took this the eleventh of February. I stepped out that morning and was entranced by the dark shadow of trees in front of the sun. I took the picture, but was a little surprised by the circles of color that the camera captured. I think it's pretty though.