Wednesday, January 27, 2010

All I wrote today. fingers swollen

“But we can rebuild in the forest,” Oggy began. “We can rebuild the hut.”

“Oggy, we’re not living in the forest if my mother has a hotel room. No.” Isabelle's voice was like that of a wife; she wasn’t reasoning, she was telling with a tone of annoyance, even disgust at Oggy’s suggestion they construct another plastic cabin in the woods to replace the one destroyed by the tweakers.

“What about the resources? There’s the electricity, the water. Food. All that’s coal derived. We’re living off dead plants and animals. It's monstrous. Watching T.V. There's no justification.”

“When can we move into the hotel?”

“Wait. Philosophically, what you are doing is destroying the world.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’ll get a hot shower.”

“Steve’s got food stamps," Mary reasoned. "He’s buying a hot plate and everything.”

“But what about the oasis project,” whined Oggy, "and the worm bin?"

“The what?”

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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.