shrill thrills

When I was dumber, which was not too long ago, I thought inanimate objects were objects that couldn’t talk. Ha. Now that I actually know what inanimate is, seems like I liked its old meaning better. I used to imagine what conversations with random objects in my room would be like


Bed: Can you get off me now, you’re squishing me.


Me: But I bought you to sleep on.


Bed: Exactly, to sleep on, not to live on.


And this prompts me to imagine what one-liners my things would give me if they could.


Clothes: WE DEMAND TO BE WASHED!


TOK Handbook: I am a drool-free zone.


Room: I regret to inform you that I have rejected you as a tenant.


Fridge: If the rooms kicked you out, why don’t you switch addresses to mine?


Car: Really honey, it’s you not me.


Quran: Me and you, we’ve got a lot of work to do.


Mirror: I’ve forgotten how I look like, every time I check, all I see is you.


Specs: No master, don’t sit on me again!


Shorts: Hmph, why are you back? I thought jeans were your number one.


Socks: When we seek divorce you may put us in the wash, that way we won’t see each other ever again.


Hee, makes you appreciate everything more once you start giving them feelings. This habit turns nasty though when its time to part cuz I imagine their cries and moans in their death throes, or imagine them crying out to me, forcing me to reminisce good times with them. Sentimental value much. Then again, since you’re always surrounded by inanimate objects, you’ll never be alone again.