Revolte
05-17-2012, 04:56 AM
It's hard being made out of rubber bands. Humans like to point and giggle, especially the young ones. They think Oh how cute is that, a voodoo doll!
Those little brats with cheeseburger stained lips, oh how I hate them. Their owners are no better. They string me up to all kinds of things. Like cars, you know, on the stupid little inside-mirrors. Yesterday they lynched me off the edge of a coffee-table. The cat had a field day with that.
I don't care much for cats either. They smell like dirty socks. And worst of all no one seems to notice. The cats know this so they never use the litter-box. It's utopia for them. Could you imagine what a cat would do in utopia? I shutter at the thought. All those dirty, tongue bathing, overgrown feline parasites feasting on mice and terrorizing things made out of rubber bands.
In fact, I don't think I've ever liked any so called pet. Birds think I'm a bundle of worms. Snakes think I'm a mouse. And even dogs think I'm their personal play-thing. Most dogs anyway–There was one that I sort of liked. His name was Chomper. I named him that, not bad eh? For a little rubber band thing. I gave him the name Chomper because he didn't chomp. I wasn't going to call him Chompless, that's just stupid.
The only thing I hate more then all these things, is missing home. Here in the human world I'm just a puppet, a doll, a toy. But in my world I was a prince! Yes, I had the largest kingdom of all! I even had a princess. She would have been my queen.
I didn't love her, really. Although she was beautiful and I wanted to love her. But I am very picky. And that time in my life was reserved for the best of the best, not for settling with the best at the moment. I was often told karma would come for me. That my foolishness would turn to despair if I didn't fix my ways. Why would I have believed in such a thing? I never before had a reason. Not until I got lost.
All I wanted was to go to the bar, meet some people, maybe play pool. But it was so dark I couldn't see much. It was never that dark, never. My kingdom faded from bright and colorful to nothing at all. I got scared and ran. I didn't know what I was running from, or where I thought I would find myself if my legs gave out. Somewhere safe I thought. I didn't know I'd end up here, I didn't know.
All the aimless running caught up with me and I tripped–Flying through the air like a kite powered by hurricanes. But instead of hitting the ground I kept flying. I had no control over my flight, of course, or of anything. I couldn't control my own thoughts. My mind was racing just as fast as my body seemed to be.
Bam!
I finally landed, in the palm of a fat little eight-year-old heathen. It looked at me with hungry eyes and started to suck on my head like I was a pacifier. It was the first time in all my existence that I felt like a lower species. A lower species to something as dimwitted as a human none the less.
Every day since then has been the same. When the cats aren't trying to rip me apart the children are trying to suck my brain out. And if everyone is bored of that, they just hang me up someplace as a sort of decoration. I don't know how long it's been, I stopped caring. You accept these kinds of things, after a while. You just give in.
I only wish I could see my princess again. One last time, to hold her. I never loved her then, when I had her, but I don't love anything more now. But button-eyes don't cry, you know, they just sort of hurt. I just sort of hurt.
Those little brats with cheeseburger stained lips, oh how I hate them. Their owners are no better. They string me up to all kinds of things. Like cars, you know, on the stupid little inside-mirrors. Yesterday they lynched me off the edge of a coffee-table. The cat had a field day with that.
I don't care much for cats either. They smell like dirty socks. And worst of all no one seems to notice. The cats know this so they never use the litter-box. It's utopia for them. Could you imagine what a cat would do in utopia? I shutter at the thought. All those dirty, tongue bathing, overgrown feline parasites feasting on mice and terrorizing things made out of rubber bands.
In fact, I don't think I've ever liked any so called pet. Birds think I'm a bundle of worms. Snakes think I'm a mouse. And even dogs think I'm their personal play-thing. Most dogs anyway–There was one that I sort of liked. His name was Chomper. I named him that, not bad eh? For a little rubber band thing. I gave him the name Chomper because he didn't chomp. I wasn't going to call him Chompless, that's just stupid.
The only thing I hate more then all these things, is missing home. Here in the human world I'm just a puppet, a doll, a toy. But in my world I was a prince! Yes, I had the largest kingdom of all! I even had a princess. She would have been my queen.
I didn't love her, really. Although she was beautiful and I wanted to love her. But I am very picky. And that time in my life was reserved for the best of the best, not for settling with the best at the moment. I was often told karma would come for me. That my foolishness would turn to despair if I didn't fix my ways. Why would I have believed in such a thing? I never before had a reason. Not until I got lost.
All I wanted was to go to the bar, meet some people, maybe play pool. But it was so dark I couldn't see much. It was never that dark, never. My kingdom faded from bright and colorful to nothing at all. I got scared and ran. I didn't know what I was running from, or where I thought I would find myself if my legs gave out. Somewhere safe I thought. I didn't know I'd end up here, I didn't know.
All the aimless running caught up with me and I tripped–Flying through the air like a kite powered by hurricanes. But instead of hitting the ground I kept flying. I had no control over my flight, of course, or of anything. I couldn't control my own thoughts. My mind was racing just as fast as my body seemed to be.
Bam!
I finally landed, in the palm of a fat little eight-year-old heathen. It looked at me with hungry eyes and started to suck on my head like I was a pacifier. It was the first time in all my existence that I felt like a lower species. A lower species to something as dimwitted as a human none the less.
Every day since then has been the same. When the cats aren't trying to rip me apart the children are trying to suck my brain out. And if everyone is bored of that, they just hang me up someplace as a sort of decoration. I don't know how long it's been, I stopped caring. You accept these kinds of things, after a while. You just give in.
I only wish I could see my princess again. One last time, to hold her. I never loved her then, when I had her, but I don't love anything more now. But button-eyes don't cry, you know, they just sort of hurt. I just sort of hurt.