Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live in a world all of my own, where I saw and remembered things the way I wanted to, giving no thought to actual reality. Then, I remember that my mother had this mythical land of her own. And I lived in it.
I imagine it looks something like this:
Sometimes I received texts from Patty Land. I’m not sure who the cell carrier is, probably uses a unicorn’s horn for signal…so I’m surprised I received the texts at all.
Here is a somewhat recent one:
“I just beat an opossum 2 death n barn w a pipe.”
Meaning Options:
1.) She killed an opossum. It was pregnant with one baby opossum. When she killed the momma opossum, she killed the baby, equaling two deaths.
2.) She walked into the barn and was accosted by an opossum. In the struggle, opossum grabbed a pipe to defend itself against mother’s mighty strength. The poor, poor, opossum lost his life but he will forever be known as the opossum who but up one helluva fight. Rest in peace fallen barn warrior.
3.) She walked into the barn, saw an opossum eating Pud Pud’s food (the barn cat). She was enraged at the utter disregard for Pud Pud’s property, carefully selected the perfect pipe from a nearby pile, and bashed the opossum to death.
4.) She beat an opossum to death with her own bare hands, nails, and teeth. The location of this occurrence was in the barn, the barn that has a pipe, “n barn w a pipe.”
I’m leaning towards option two. 