Microwaved Food Will Be The Death Of Me

It’s nice up here today. The weather’s quite all right for this time of the year. And for this time of the year it’s quite nice to have this kind of weather. The sun is hanging low trying its utmost best not to let this day be gone just yet, there’s a slight summer breeze and the air is thick with laughter. I can hear some music in the distance as if somebody’s throwing a party and for a minute it seems I am almost but not entirely content with life, the universe and everything. Almost, but not quite. If I were actually happy, I’d be out there having a great time with friends instead of being up here with my notebook, some pigeons and my own thoughts.

It’s past dinnertime. I still don’t feel like having yet another dull, greyish lump of anything for now. One of these days I will have to start cooking up something decent for a change. I don’t know if any research has been done on microwave food and how fattening it is or how bad for your health that stuff can be, but I bet that it’s not as healthy as a decent home-cooked meal. Eating that junk might be a passive form of suicide. It will eventually be the death of me. Either I die from eating it, or I throw myself off of the roof so I won’t have to die from eating it. Sometimes I wonder what it is made of and wonder if there’s actual food in it. Then I figure it’s best not to think about it. Whatever you do don’t ever read the label on that rubbish; let ignorance be bliss.

The ants down there are getting really antsy. Some days, often days like this, with the sun the way it is, I just want to take out a spyglass and simply burn the lot down there. When I was young one of our neighbours had this kid who was the closest thing to a friend I had. What a spoiled brat he was, always insistent to have things done his way. We were kind of stuck together because our parents were the best of friends so we would often spend time at each other’s houses. I was too young to be allowed to stay at home alone. So was he. We would often play in the garden and he’d take out his spyglass to kill almost anything in sight. He’d burn a hole through everything. One time he even blamed me for ruining one of his trucks and Mum had to buy him a new one. It came out of my pocket money. I never forgave him for that.

Today I feel a little bit like him – wanting to burn everything down with my spyglass and put the blame on somebody else, preferably some sort of deity, and then have that deity make something new. I bet it made my neighbour feel like a god whenever he burnt another spider or whenever he set fire to another one of his toys. I say god, but this kid was pure evil. I don’t know what ever became of him, but I’m sure he’s locked up in a prison by now or some mental institute. I can still recall his maniacal laugh every time he went for a kill. “Burn! Burn in Hell!” He would call out. Satan was a nice chap compared to this kid.

I’m glad I can sit out here upon this ledge and I was lucky to have been able to get rid of Nancy. That girl is really something.

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2 comments

  1. The False Prophet · August 15, 2015

    Reblogged this on The False Prophet.

    Like

  2. amoafowaa · August 17, 2015

    Poor ants and insects.

    Liked by 1 person

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