Thursday, January 17, 2008
Micro Derelict
I wish my parents had told me that I had a brother. That is, a brother other than the two I knew of, along with my sister. However, I found out that there was another brother who was older than all of us. A prototype, hidden away in a dark room filled with hair clippings and old magazines until a small accident at my fathers rendering facility revealed him. I resent the secrecy, but I plan to embrace him regardless.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comments:
speaking of the rendering facility, i have a few BPO's that need reconciliation. i knew this brother of yours; a stout young boy with a passion for turnip-grafting and the works of thomas hardy. "too old for you," i would say at church coffee hour and take away his dog-eared edition of jude the obscure. his treatise, a young man's treatise on the folly of man as seen through the eye of the turnip farmer, was nothing but a success at brixton's monthly meeting of the la leche league. i've never told anyone this, brian, but your brother's words rung true like the guns of navarone over our humble town, and yet i, simple shopkeep, was kept silent by my distaste for the peignoir your brother wore as a cape, nee, a headdress. your family is complete now, my friend; cherish it.
Post a Comment