Via Chris P, it occurred to me that Sam and I cannot actually have a baby. At least not while we have Steve McQueen because he would totally eat a baby. It would be an enemy for him to destroy. You know he would.
Envision this: A little infant lying on the floor on a baby blanket for tummy time. A blanket that sort of functions like a rug, a rug that Steve will know belongs to him because all rug like thing belong to him. A rug that some kicky move-y thing is lying on. A rug that must be liberated from said smelly kicky move-y thing by any means necessary which in Steve's case means biting and kicking and force. So, yeah, we can't have a baby, and I am really beginning to rethink this having another kitty business because I don't want to make Steve unhappy. And this means that I have become one of those crazy neurotic city people who's kitty is their baby. But you know what? I think I am fine with that.
Where's Beebo?! There she is!!!
11 years ago
2 comments:
I imagine your life as a constant series of running from room to room, immediately shutting the door behind you and listening, panting and scared, to see if the monster has given up on chasing you. And this all happens in the dark.
I'm sure you'd want to do other things with your kid, like eat and play, but that sounds kind of awesome to me.
I enjoy that in this story Steve has become an evil monster.
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