Wednesday, August 22, 2012

A Taste of Wool Part 8

"BLOORRG!" Harry exclaimed. Dr. Drillateral sighed a long sigh and closed his eyes. He saw purple and green spots. The spots he saw resembled the ink blots that he was gripping tightly in his left fist (for Dr. Drillateral was left-handed) and had just asked Harry to identify.

"Can you describe bloorrg?" Dr. Drillateral said calmly .

Let it be known that Harry was perfectly capable of using adjectives to coherently describe "bloorrg." Bloorrg was more of a feeling than a tangible object. Bloorrg was the utter frustration that Harry felt at that moment when Dr. Drillateral was so desperately trying to evoke an answer that resembled "table" or "beach ball" or "ice cream cone." But that wasn't the answer that Harry would have given if he were to answer under the coherent terms of Dr. Drillateral. He would have begun a monologue about the complexity of the current situation, and how he wished that Dr. Drillateral could understand what he understood. Unfortunately for Drillateral, what Harry did say was nowhere near "ice cream cone," or even "Bloorrg" for that matter. He opened his mouth and began to tell a story:

"When I was eight, I had a pet rat. She was black and white. Her name was Susie. She was a domesticated rat, so she was wasn't dangerous, she didn't bite." I used to sit in my living room on a couch cushion on the floor in front of the TV with Susie in my lap. Sometimes I would spread my body out on the carpet length-wise and let Susie climb from my stomach to my face. Now you're probably thinking, 'weren't you afraid that Susie would poop on your face? But Susie was a good girl, and I knew she wouldn't do that to me. When Susie reached the point just below my collar bone, I would stare into her eyes. I knew that she saw something I didn't see. She had a spark of knowledge in those black beady eyes that I lacked. But now, I see what she saw."

Dr. Drillateral had never owned a pet. Actually, that's not entirely true. He once briefly owned a Golden Retriever puppy, but quickly had to get rid of it, because he broke out in hives after wrestling with it. Ever since his WWF match with that particular canine, Dr. Drillateral had rid himself of animal interaction all together. However, Drillateral knew what Harry was getting at.

"What does the mop know, and what has it told you?" Drillateral asked leaning in close to hear the answer.

Harry began snickering quietly. The snickering transformed slowly into a slight chuckle and eventually evolved into an uproarious cackle.
"BLOORRG!" Harry exclaimed joyfully. Drillateral groaned.

This is part of my short story, A Taste of Wool. I will be revealing a new segment each Wednesday, here OS/NS Mom as a part of Wool Wednesdays. To read part 7, click here.

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