Much like this elephant.
I just like looking at vegetables.
I mean how do you know your getting the best tomatoes for your money if you don’t peruse every tomato in the shop. There may be one tomato hiding at the bottom that’s the best tomato anyone has ever tasted.
Angry shoppers look at me like i’m an irritation, hindering their shopping experience. I just have a lot of time on my hands.
I get home and lay out my beautiful, plump, fresh vegetables.
They get home and weep over their unripe peaches.
These are just some of the reviews people would publish about me if my work was more popular. I wrote to Time magazine suggesting that they review my work but they did not respond.
I believe this is because of fear. Fear that if my work was to be distributed to a wider audience it might change things.
It may change the very make up of society.
Seriously though, they’re probably very busy.
I mean, I only sent a few letters, i’m sure i’ll get a reply soon.
Maybe they got lost in the mail.
…I’ll send another.
They know him well, he had been one of them. Just a simple alley cat. But he had made the big time.
He was a house cat.
Here for his annual return to his roots, complete with cat food gifts and endless tales of the high life. Regaling the rapidly growing crowd with stories of free food, sleeping on the sofa and unconditional love.
He epitomizes their hopes and dreams. An unattainable feline deity.
His presence runs a fine line between adoration and resentment.
An idolised celebrity.
Oh how he wished to be a sharpie… those guys were so cool, with their ever lasting ink. His work could be brushed away with a simple rubber.
“it’s what’s inside that counts” His mother had always said, completely unaware of the irony. His grandfather had been Shakespeare’s pencil. He was just downright average. He just didn’t have the creativity of the rest of his family.