My Diary

I had to go out for a family meal; June who had inadvertently got herself trapped in a hypodermic syringe – along with several billion influenza bugs – came along later. My sister and I recalled the days of horse driven mail coaches at the railway station and then met my father inside a motorised banana skin; we had to peel the banana to get him out. I drunk the contents of a horn last blown by Roland and then dipped my fingers in a tar pit to tickle a sabre toothed tiger under the chin – it later escaped like most memories usually do. After the meal we walked around the farmers market picking at pieces of corn and making words on the floor; my father rode away in a vehicle made entirely of consonants while we followed the trail of vowels back home.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s