The surreal saga continued uninterrupted as the world slowly awakened from its forced lethargy, reacquainting itself with its former incarnation. Naturally, I found comfort amid truncated pachyderms, pear-shaped divas, and fitness instructors with elongated limbs pinning paddies to melting faces.
- Type: Personal
- Year: 2021-2014
Pins, pins, pins (2021)
Let’s grow our own pins! Whose brilliant idea was that? I was only trying to be nice. It didn’t mean I wanted to look after it forever. It should have died after a few weeks. These things usually do. But no, not this one. Two years. Two years I’ve been stuck with it. “Don’t forget to water the pins!” I flooded the damn thing. It doubled in size overnight! “You should prune it.” I cut all the fingers. Every last one of them. They grew back—with polished nails! “How about some pins tonight?” How about I starve to death instead? It was alright at first. We had pins once in a while, in a salad or a crème brûlée. But then it got out of hand. She started putting them in everything! Pins alla vongole, bangers and pins, pin rolls, shepherd pins, pins au chocolat. Boiled pins, baked pins, roasted pins, grilled pins. Pins for breakfast, pins for lunch, and pins for dinner. Pins, pins, pins. I really can’t take it anymore—but I don’t know how to tell her. I love her, but I swear if she asks for needles, that’s it. I’m GONE!