A Day at the Zoo

My mom was cleaning out her study and found a piece of lined paper with my handwriting on it under her desk.  I'm going to let you read this little gem for yourself:

A DAY AT THE ZOO 

One particular Saturday, Billy and Laura went to the zoo.  Their father Arnold took them because their mother had a headache and needed "Mommy Time."  Billy and Laura thought it was funny Mommy got a headache every Saturday. 

Billy liked the monkeys and hyenas.  Laura liked the elephants and tropical birds.  Daddy liked the pretty lady at the concessions stand. 

While Daddy talked to the pretty lady at the concessions stand, Billy laughed at the hyenas.  One of the hyenas got angry at Billy and Billy got scared and fell into the hyenas home.  The hyenas ate Billy and laughed. 

Daddy was still talking to the pretty lady at the concessions stand.  Laura was playing in the tropical birds aviary.  An escaped spider bit her and Laura died. 

Daddy was still talking to the pretty lady at the concessions stand.  Then he heard screaming.  When he found out why people were screaming, Daddy was scared.  Mommy was going to be very angry. 

THE END

I would like to add that based on the handwriting I must have written this in the last few years, when I was probably no younger than nineteen.  And to think they let me babysit children.  Also, based on the psychiatric profile we can create from this piece, I have a problem trusting men and fear zoos.  If you have any other neuroses you can contribute based on this piece, please feel free.

Pyrographs

Drawings created with fire.  Pyrographs.



From the Anthropologist.

Things that happen when you get a tonsillectomy

I just spent fifteen minutes looking for an old Harry Potter cup with a built in straw we used to have.  I think we gave it to Goodwill years ago.  I feel disproportionately sad.

Also, in a vicodin daze yesterday, I told me mother the sound she made while writing in her journal was stressful enough to give me a heart attack; repeatedly told my family they were "too tense" as my father and brother attempted to set up a PS3; and openly wondered if I was a bad person because I was considering starting a new sketchbook, even though I already have a couple others I'm using.

Apparently, narcotics and having pieces cut out of me doesn't put me in the most rational state of mind.  Who knew?

1995