When I think about lifeboats, I like to think about who I have aboard. I think about DEI. I think, are they plump? I like the plumpers. It is my own word. You can use if for air raid shelters, too. People bring their pets to the air raid shelter. Plumpers and poodles. Budgies like to fly away. But you can catch a dog. I am a vegan in sunlight. In my air raid shelter, I have a hot plate.
Always mad and hissy, these people are. In my shelter, making noise and farting. They fart in the air raid shelter. It is the air pressure, when I close the special door, the air lock. I do not speak German, but the button I press is blue.
I think about DEI when I am standing at the hatch. Are they plump? I eat garlic now. The elves taught me. They taught me to cook vegan. But I put in meat. Nice, tasty meat.
It is my lifeboat. Your dirty ass won't be sitting on that clean seat for long. There is ass disease. Their bum should be wiped with bleach. Or broiled. With whole onions roasting on the rack below, in the oven. When they are gone, I get to clean the seats. I use spray. You can smell the cooking. It smells nice.
They always fall asleep. I can make pastry. You take a finger or toe sized piece of meat and wrap in in dough. I have a sprinkle can for salt. I have a mill for pepper. I have a hot plate in the air raid shelter. I am the air raid warden. I have a reflective vest that says so. I wait for them to fall asleep. Sleepy plumpers.
There was a quiz at the end of the training session. I remember your lips turn blue from Carbon Monoxide. But they really just fall asleep.
Meat with garlic and turnips. It tastes so good. It boils up in my pot. It smells good. I have to pretend to like pronouns. Everybody turns into an It in the end on my lifeboat. The signs in the air raid shelter embrace pronouns. Everyone just turns into an It, anyway. Do not cook the hair.
They replace themselves when the newest siren wails. No talk of replacement here. No talk; just action. They come off the streets of the city. They come to my air raid shelter, looking for a life boat. Every time, a plumper.
I like to cook beets. They make sweet; and you can add cabbage and meat. Turnips within reason. Lots of tasty meat. The smaller bones. I have a good peeler. Peel the beets, peel their skin. I like peeling skin.
The plumpers are best. I make biscuits from mix and put them on the top. So tasty.
I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.
Now, if Stephen King had written that, they'd call him a living god. Of course, they do anyway. But still, damn nice.
ReplyDeleteThough I must say, it was a bit light on the lesbian sex. I don't mind, but I thought you had a quota? And my licensing staff had led me to expect a dancing Hispanic duck. But I'm not letting it compromise my praise.
The smell of burning leather. A branding iron in the fireplace. A tumbler of rye with ice. The pleasures of the private air raid shelter.
ReplyDeleteI'd hoped for, "tappity tap, quack quack, senor!" But I guess this will do.
ReplyDelete