Thursday, December 8, 2016

Giggles in Grown up clothing

The first thing I see when I walk down the stairs are the variaty of legs.
Yes, legs; legs as long as mine, as covered in cloth and legs as bare as theirs, a little piece of black on the top or with many holes in the covering cloth which is always branded with "Hollister" or something like that. And how dark it is up there, above those legs. I mean, yes,
they have long legs, beautiful and healthy ones, able to lift the upperbody high up in the sky. But not beyond the atmosphere, right?
I get a bit closer to them and ah, I see now! It's the smoke. Very thick, too - all their pretty faces that took them ages to bring to perfection this morning are almost entirely hidden!
Well, it is more about the bombs anyway - the faces are, hm, what should I say? The battle cry? Or more like an admirable painting? Or a sausage, perhaps, looking very, very and I mean very tasty - If you know what I mean, guys. *wink* *wink*
It's hard to tell, since their munition is the same, the same bombs are thrown, used in the same way. It's a never ending cycle of bomb throwing. hard to get through, or more like - I'm unwilling to get through. Other outsiders, like to watch, though.
But if we could just see inside the sausage and the sausage-making, then we'd probably know whether it was battle cry or not.
Ironically, they hate using bombs or more like, they're scared that the bombs might explode in their hands and not in someone else's so that they can claim victory and laugh, but at the same time they need the bomb throwing to feel alive.
*Cough* *Cough* This smoke is suffocating! God, how do they keep this up?!
Then I see that the smoke which seems thick enough to make them invisible for each other, isn't as thick for outsiders.
They're giggling while throwing their bombs, but their not keeping up.
They're pretending to. Desperately.
We might find it annoying, but they are dying. And it's their own fault.

I don't understand and I shake my head.
I continue walking down the stairs and then through the hallway. It's a bright, colorful path I walk and I barely recognize the darkness and giggles from above anymore.
For the brightness of my own path and the rainbows above, the giggling of pixies and animals and the people from fantasyland are filling my head.
Whether their giggles are better than the giggles in grown up clothing, I do not know.
But I do think they're nicer to listen to. Although I'm the only one who hears them.

Hehehe, o, you cute dog...O MY GOD A PANDA... NO NO NO - I DON'T WANNA FLYYY-AAHHH--
Erhem. Sorry. As you can see, I totally can't relate to the "I" in this story. Erhem. Nope. Not at all.
See you on the next page.


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