It is the fifth day.
I am surrounded by simple things, chairs, cabinets, tables.
On one of these tables, the offenders lie. They are just as sickening as they were yesterday, or the day before, or any of the days they have been there. They never apologize for anything. But they should. Their existence is the bane of mine.
The other table is illuminated by a candle, flickering gently. If I moved it now, I would be caught. Better to wait, I think.
"Are you alright?"
She's noticed, finally.
"No, Barbara, I most certainly am not alright."
I mean no sarcasm; but my answer isn't good enough.
The human named Barbara scoots her chair to the side, glares at me with those pudgy little eyes. She squints.
"It's that damn broccoli again, isn't it?"
No answer will save me now.
"Yes. Yes, Barbara, it most certainly is the broccoli." I am shameless. I am proud. I face a certain death, but I have nothing to lose.
YOU ARE READING
the broccoli
Paranormalit is there it is sitting it is waiting for you. "let's play a game," it says. will you accept?
