wallet pains, birthing strains
Sometime later the house was sufficiently clean and she headed indoors. It's safer there. No freon poisoning, no male posturing. Just a house and a home. A humble abode. A place to hang your hat.
So she headed indoors and trekked to the couch. A plaid and flannel affair. Though it had four legs, it wouldn't be walking down the red carpet anytime soon. Maybe it would be dragged over one if she moved, but she was here for now.
And she went indoors. And she sat. On the couch.
"Stop me if I'm going too fast" One brick said to another.
She sat and with bated breath eavsedropped on a pair of bickering bricks in her flat.
"It's not that you're going too fast" The brick countered. "It's that you're an idiot. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Well, maybe it's that you're not listening. You haven't said anything."
"Maybe I just prefer to suffer fools in silence."
"Well, you're the fool."
"At least I'm not making myself look stupid, talking about such things. You don't know anything. You've stayed in this house all your life. You don't know your roots. You don't have any plans. No goals. You just spend your whole life in line, where you're supposed to be."
"Shut up with your rabble rousing shit, would you?" This was a surly brick, indeed. But no one likes to be made to feel four inches tall, even if that is their proper size.
"I haven't said a word at all, which was what caused all this fuss in the first place."
"Well, that's just like you. Never saying anything at all. Living in your head."
"Maybe there's a better world in there." This brick probably kept a journal.
"Well, it's too big for your head." This brick probably preferred toilet paper folded under, not over.
She had such a headache from listening to bricks argue, so she headed into the kitchen to take some Tylenol and probably make a piece of toast.
Then the toaster farted.
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