In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “It’s My Party.” You’re throwing a party — for you! Tell us all about the food, drink, events, and party favours you’ll have for your event of a lifetime.
I saw a prompt on the Daily Post
I thought “Hmm..what do I wrote about that
so it doesn’t sound dull and….
gets more vieers on my blog?”
This is one shitty piece of a poetry, yo
There’d be kittens on my lap. I would meow to them, expecting a babyish, gentle “Meow” back; What an awesome feat that would be! But they wouldn’t do it. I would wonder if I were being a bad human-friend. But I would soon get over it because there would be someone there to be there for me in times of….hypersensitivity. If he weren’t there, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep…I would be thinking, “Why didn’t they at LEAST look at me when I was meowing? Why were they playing with their stupid balls? And one of them was shitting RIGHT in front of me! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MEAYYY!! sigh. They Have zero manners!? Which bastard goes around shitting on the floor?”
It’s every introvert’s dream….a house surrounded by kittens! Oh and a few close loved ones. It’s one dayum party, yo! Party in the quiet person’s head that is….Boom-shakalaka!
“Hey, Mon,” my soul mate/husband would say, handing me a tray that’s chocolaty aroma-filled, “Baked you some chocolate-chipped cookies!” Oh damn. THE dream. I cook for the guy and he does the same for me too. The feminist dream. He and I would sit on the porch because it’s nice and cold and we don’t have our Mothers nagging us to get off the floor.
“Meow!” I said madly. “Mon, just try to relax..” Husband would say.
“No! You relax!”
“Wow! Don’t get mad! Listen to me. They aren’t going to meow back at you, OK? I don’t think they even know about your…..er….expectation of getting a reply from them”
“Reality….sucks. Damn :'(“
“It will be alright. I am here with you now”.
And I wouldn’t feel alone anymore. Where were you in all those years? I would look at him. You’re awesome!
And then we do things that I won’t write about in this post.
Quit reading, I said I won’t write about that stuff.
OK, fine. If you have to know. We were watching Oggy and the Cockroaches together. Dayum.
Photo Credit: Randi Deuro