I was at work, typing away through a headache. Thought it would be nice if the day ended with me playing with something cute. Something cute, at first, but unknownst to me it would get bloodthirsty when the moon peeps out. I'd have my arms round it and it would stiffen as the hour approached. I would feel its blood turning cold, and its eyes getting clouded for a minute. They'd be grey and rheumy. It would give off a faint, but noticable stench...of evil. And then, just as I am about to nurse it, it'd get a bluish-purple-scarlet glint in its eyes. It would breathe out sharply, and my skin would get lacerated.
A single, thick, yellow tear would run down its wrinkled rubbery face.
And then the next minute, it would be small and pink and cute. Fitting nicely in the crook of my arm and the nape of my neck. My own sweet, double-faced wizard of a shark. My shark called Oz.
3 comments:
Mukta, I'll say it again - you need a dog. :-) Here's a golden rule for choosing a pet - make sure your head does not fit into its open mouth.
:) Hi Oz!
Very nice. Considering we just were talking about Rosemary's Baby.
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