My Diary

I left the house as the frog headed man – June was still asleep in a frog spawn bed.  I caught the caterpillar to the leaf where I grew up.  When I arrived the kind old man had a television on his shoulders replacing his head – he changed expressions when I changed channels.  Then we donned pixie hats and helped the lady next door put a smile on her own TV.  I sat on a pupa all the way home mapping little movements in its superstructure.  Later the frog king and queen left the house to paint the town pink.

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My Diary

I sprung into life as the portcullis was raised.  The enemy had already made the stage sets and the orchestra had tuned up.  I hid in a bowl of porridge as a swarm of menacing black shapes floated overhead.  The radio growled so I had to set it free, later finding it again purring among a bed of dandelions.  I sat in a hole as June walked on stilts – the cellophane creatures danced like Northern Lights in the living room.  We both went out as the switch was flicked.

My Diary

The paper bag person left the house early just after a head had poked out a crack between the floorboards. I caught hold of the handle and winched the sea captain aboard. While my invisible guest danced a hornpipe I made a city in the cat’s fur and waited for the batteries in the house of Damocles to run out. I painted several lines when June was out, only joining them together when she emerged from the hold wearing a uniform. I took off my clothes so that I could be used as a board game.

My Diary

As the dust settled from the rodent rock concert I floated down to breakfast on a magic cushion, both of my heads wearing hats (one of which had a lighthouse on top – unfortunately the keeper had gone missing just after he had married a rowing boat). I wrote a message in the dust that had collected on the bald head of an old prophet which my wife had borrowed from the library. The paper people turned up after all the notes had been written to take us to see a paint pot – I talked to a roll of wallpaper.

My Diary

The woman was as thin as paper so I put her between two pages that I read regularly.  I crawled out of the cardboard toaster as the shape left the house – I watched it ascend the hill where the old people wrap dollies in polythene.  It came down again with its pockets full of memories which I planted in the garden.  I marked the spot where the Roman emperor was buried by rose petals (noticing that the bushes had been moved in the night).  I had to go out as the corkscrew was finally extracted from the head.

My Diary

I stepped out of a dream and then stepped into another one as my wife took a rope bridge to work – the rope bridge came back without her.  I pulled myself down the deep hole while the midget family fed animals on the dark side of the moon.  June returned home unexpectedly wearing a bag, leaving me to search for the shopping.  Then a huge crane swung over head and removed the roof giving me a chance to complete my explorations – June wore a pizza instead of a face.

My Diary

I opened the morning judiciously, thinking it was someone else’s.  I read the contents of the letter that had fallen to the floor. The white rabbit came in for his appointment as I watched the shadows leave the house.  As the alarm bells rang I sank into the very deepest recesses of the lake beneath the building – I could still hear the tinkling voices on the pavement above. We went out in the evening to watch the children being loaded onto the dirty face plane – my dinner walked to the table under its own steam.