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And its like, okay, I can deal with the garden gnome come to life, but why do my cheerios get so soggy after less than a minute in milk?
What, ceramic objects can think and walk, but modern science cant produce a milk-resistant oat-based morning food?
Ive tried keeping the fridge real cold, but the gnome just cackles when the milk sets off my fillings and I scream in pain.
I cant complain too much, though, cause the little guy sweeps up the shattered bowl after Ive dropped it. And he does it all with a hearty mid-chortle grin plastered on his painted face that squints up his eyes real good and I wonder how in the hell he can even see where the trash can is, let alone pull a step stool over to it and dump the bowl shards in.
And, I mean, he hands me little bits of toilet paper for me to put on the shaving cuts. Only once in a while does he dip a piece in the mouthwash, which hurts something awful. He cackles when I scream, then, too.
He may well be going through my personal items while Im at work, because more than once, Ive come home to find photographs of my friends cut up, faces missing. Though my face he always leaves alone, smiling with my arm around some empty space.
And then Ill find the collages hes made with them: his picture pasted amongst those of my friends and interspersed with words from magazines like awesome! fun, and good times.
I dont know where he got pictures of himself.
I do feel bad for the little guy because all hes really got is me, which is less than what Ive got, which is him.
Its tough considering yourself inferior to an anthropomorphic piece of outdoor pottery, but weve all got self-esteem issues, I suppose.
Past pieces presented by Baja Phats
Correctness by Ben Timberlake
Spooj by Winston T. Spoojalot
The First Seven Paragraphs of the Best and Greatest Story in the World by Secho
Now you can pay to read Baja Phats Presents!