Words are the lifeline that connect my heart to the world. This is a collection of my 2am confessions and my 12pm ideas. Told from the viewpoint of my struggling mind, my broken heart, my wild soul, and my screaming mouth.
"Distruggi quello che ti d...
If you didn't read the previous chapter, then go read the ending because it will explain.
I'll wait.
Done? Good.
So naturally I had a burial service. Also, I am weird get used to it. I will only get weird, there is no going back.
I was able to salvage some of his remains...you can see his eye in there somewhere. He will be preserved in an airtight bag; I cut it open then reaped it. I got this from an Amazon Prime box.
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His headstone is made of the finest construction paper, black because Quasimodo would have wanted it that way. It was carved from a semi-sturdy Amazon Prime box to match his preservation bag. There is a whale tail ornament on top to signify his species. It says "Fudgymodo" at the bottom, the rocks just cover it up. If you don't get it well..i'm too lazy to explain.
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Thank you all, you didn't know Quasimodo existed until he was dead. Okay, confession, I am dying of laughter inside because the irony of the previous sentence is too much. Quasimodo was the love of my life, my whale child. He was better than my brother's owl, and much more loved.
Also thanks mom! (She reads my stuff, she's good like that). She also let me make a headstone for a tinfoil whale and allowed me to plant it in our backyard. She didn't ask questions, I simply stated, "I am going to make a grave for Quasimodo" and she said "Okay honey, don't dig up the roses." She doesn't question my weirdness, I love her.
