I rub my hands against each other. It is not to generate heat in this invasively frigid weather.
That, we are acclimated to. The task I am about to handle must be done with profound veneration. It is a sacred moment that must be accorded the highest level of reverence.
To do without, I cannot. It is a curse I have to bear. A curse I can’t do without, a curse I rather enjoy. To some, I am just another despicable creature; a vile beast that ought only to grace the grasslands of the Mara.
They have even baptized me a name, one I don’t and never will revel at. It is a name that portrays the savagery within even the chambers of their highest eminence.
Hyena. Really? Is that the most modest name you can brand me?
Commiserations to you, however. I will not elongate my hind limbs no matter the magnitude of assiduity you employ. Once a hyena, always a glutton. My pack knows it, and so do I….
I look at you lying there. I do not see you. I never have. You have always been a path, just a journey to my destination; an accessory to get to my deepest darkest desire. That is however not to say that there is nothing to see.
There is a lot that meets the eye, really.
Your shape, to begin with, is momentous.
All the right junk in all the right places.
Wide-just the right amount at the top-as it progressively narrows towards the waist.
That is not the end of it, not even the climax. The real curve now begins, this time, it is bigger and better.
You have a glitter on your face. It allows me a reflection of my smile. I mumble a prayer to the Almighty Deity.
I pray for the members of my sub-species who have not had their daily bread. Most importantly, I pray for those that have not seen the light. They who think starving (not fasting) for a better tomorrow is worth it. They do not take up much of my time. Their ratio in the entire populace is not so palatable after all.
I count my rounds; one…two…many.
Silence reigns in the room.
All sacred moments deserve silence, eerie silence.
I like my work done fast. They all taste better while hot.
Soon, I will be done.
A glass of water will mark the end of this episode, at least till after some six hours. During that time, I may or may not choose you. I am certain of the wide array of similar friends I will choose from, or maybe I will not even use your kind. Not all foods are eaten with spoons after all. Till supper time, adieu.
This piece is entirely about the lack of appreciation accorded to a spoon during a meal. The writer has and for the foreseeable future will be of sound mind. Ergo, he will not be liable for damages caused to the literarily inept.
Call me Freak.