I sat down with my bulging red pencil case. I opened to a fresh new white page. Upon opening the quivering sack, with a satisfying “zzzip”, I reached inside to produce a gold coloured swivel crayon, followed by a torrent of other such mark-making devices (Including some fresh, hard new crayola water colur pencils). I began drawing with the green swivel crayon, making a sort of fish outline. After some deliberation, I decided to adorn this fish with a gold eye. This I outlined using the gold swivel crayon; when that was finished I proceeded to shade this eye with said swivel crayon. This was done and I sat wondering what to do next. I consequently decided that the fish should indeed be “breathing” psychedelic colours.
It should be noted that, while the eye was being shaded, I watched a green ant gaily exploring my pencils. I set my gaze upon the creature for some time, considering my initial reaction to it, which was one of some fear and repulsion.
I decided upon a few shades of purple water colours and a delightful orange one. The lines snaked out of the creature’s mouth like putrid dark vines, swiftly exploding onto the edge of the page. A small number of lines branched away from this fish’s soft mandibles, these created small sections within the negative space between them. I proceeded to apply blocks of colour to these spaces.
When I was up to, I believe, the third of these spaces, a huge pain came about just underneath where that bone sticks out on my ankle. It was an ant bite, but not just any ant bite, it was an ant bite of desperation, a bite that could have sprung only from the fear of death. This was a bite that was agony, it began fairly painfully, but the swift creep of venom around my blood system saw that it became only worse over the next one minute period. I had, you see, rubbed my ankles together, crushing this ant in between them.
Whilst I searched for the offending creature, I noticed a small flying creature buzzing near my pencils. It was about the size of a green ant, but with a back that tapered off more swiftly after the point on its back where the wings started. It buzzed me, all stealthy like, making me think of a black hawk helicopter, hovering overhead; waiting for the command to come, instructing the pilot to press the button that would trigger 90 megatons of nuclear anthrax death.
Down at my foot, I saw the ant that had caused my initial pain, which at that time was still immense. I recognised the ant by its injured midsection; it was limping, with one leg looking completely lame. “Holy crap, I’m being attacked on all sides by mother nature’s most favored species, with its honed caliber of lethal poisons and vastly superior numbers.” I did not have much time to consider the fate of this ant, as another was climbing up the front of my big toe. I disposed of this creature with much gnashing of teeth and fear of another dose of ant venom. I elected to let the injured ant live, on account of the fact that our battle had been fought fair and hard.
Back to this flying thing, whose feet came to rest on top of my some of my spilt pencils. I made the decision to pick up the pencil, sending it back into the air. I then packed my pencils and swivel crayons and pens back into the red pencil case, then rezipped it. I closed my book, collected my things and came inside to transfer this account to the typed word.
It should be noted that, while the eye was being shaded, I watched a green ant gaily exploring my pencils. I set my gaze upon the creature for some time, considering my initial reaction to it, which was one of some fear and repulsion.
I decided upon a few shades of purple water colours and a delightful orange one. The lines snaked out of the creature’s mouth like putrid dark vines, swiftly exploding onto the edge of the page. A small number of lines branched away from this fish’s soft mandibles, these created small sections within the negative space between them. I proceeded to apply blocks of colour to these spaces.
When I was up to, I believe, the third of these spaces, a huge pain came about just underneath where that bone sticks out on my ankle. It was an ant bite, but not just any ant bite, it was an ant bite of desperation, a bite that could have sprung only from the fear of death. This was a bite that was agony, it began fairly painfully, but the swift creep of venom around my blood system saw that it became only worse over the next one minute period. I had, you see, rubbed my ankles together, crushing this ant in between them.
Whilst I searched for the offending creature, I noticed a small flying creature buzzing near my pencils. It was about the size of a green ant, but with a back that tapered off more swiftly after the point on its back where the wings started. It buzzed me, all stealthy like, making me think of a black hawk helicopter, hovering overhead; waiting for the command to come, instructing the pilot to press the button that would trigger 90 megatons of nuclear anthrax death.
Down at my foot, I saw the ant that had caused my initial pain, which at that time was still immense. I recognised the ant by its injured midsection; it was limping, with one leg looking completely lame. “Holy crap, I’m being attacked on all sides by mother nature’s most favored species, with its honed caliber of lethal poisons and vastly superior numbers.” I did not have much time to consider the fate of this ant, as another was climbing up the front of my big toe. I disposed of this creature with much gnashing of teeth and fear of another dose of ant venom. I elected to let the injured ant live, on account of the fact that our battle had been fought fair and hard.
Back to this flying thing, whose feet came to rest on top of my some of my spilt pencils. I made the decision to pick up the pencil, sending it back into the air. I then packed my pencils and swivel crayons and pens back into the red pencil case, then rezipped it. I closed my book, collected my things and came inside to transfer this account to the typed word.
