toothpick was sticking out. He brushed his back teeth like that after eating meat.
And so, his eyes grew, but he did not dare to goggle them at me, they grew under his feet. All in the final went. Then he adapted to crawl like a worm in order to see everything ahead of him. He crawled over cow dung, over mud, over grass, over engine oil. Spat.
Then I got tired of it, I pulled it out of the socket, and it became a toaster. You see, he didn’t like being a toaster either. I took it by the tail and threw it into the aquarium with the whale. The whale chewed it, chewed it, spat it out.
“Shit,” he said, and went to bed, powdering his nose. Poseidon was sitting there, on a leash, on a chain and barking bubbles. He maintained the humidity in the room so that oxygen circulated.
Then I hired a shark as a servant to eat him and poop him back out to realize that he was nothing compared to other creatures. Of course, he did not like being a slave, but he humbly obeyed me until he found a genie ring and made a wish for freedom.
“Run across the ceiling thirty times, show a rabbit on your finger seven times and become a wolverine three times, that’s all,” said the genie, and disappeared.
He could. It was easy, but he did it the hard way. He became a wolverine by sticking table knives to the bones of his hand, sewing a rabbit onto his finger, and running across the ceiling in a frozen lake, and became free.
When he came to me to demand his house back, I gave it to him without argument. But he did not give up the apartment. Then he grabbed me by the neck, bit off my trachea, and spit it out into a vat of acid. Then he rolled me in concrete, tiled me in the bathroom, and sprinkled me with chamomile water, which I’m allergic to, and I became swollen, all the pimples became rounded like an egg, and he kicked me there when he took a bath. I climbed out of the wall, slammed him against the tiles on the floor, dipped his face in blade shards, and walled him up in a soap bottle, flattening him to the size of an aspirin. He swam there, wiping the walls with his hands, trying to see me. I swirled the shampoo and smeared it on my hair, but not on my head. He was allergic to hair. This often happens if you use something often. He fell. Seryoga too. They fell together. His dignity and courage.
The toaster was strange.
And then I woke up. The roommate looked at me and told me to wash the dishes. I went and washed. Did everything around the house while he sat and laughed from the TV shows. I didn’t like it. I grabbed the refrigerator and hit it on his impudent head. He turned around saying:
– Ay, bleat – and gave me cunts. And in the dream everything was so cool. When will I also become a fifth-year student and use my first-year slaves. Dream dream
The onion peel was able to skillfully soar above the trash can and catch flies in its arms, so that later it could be fried in a pan and eaten. It is understandable, people often do not think about it. You think that everything in the world is so simple, and the onion creature has no soul, fools, but here it is. Only she lives in another dimension, there, people, are just decorations for their world. More precisely, the husk does not see moving things, and concentrates on one, slow movement, like a fly. They see a fly only because they fly right before their eyes and they are small, and people block the whole view, like a canvas of a built wall, their largeness makes them invisible. Therefore, when we look at the husk, it stands peacefully and does not hunt, because it does not see the enemy in front of it. But as soon as we leave, and go back to the kitchen, when suddenly it turns out, that the husk moved a few centimeters deep into the cabinet. This is how she hunts for flies, cockroaches and sweeps the dust where she will sleep.
People, of course, think that this is all because of the wind, but everything is much more complicated.
But the flies, they are still those geniuses. You can see how they fly away somewhere and disappear, looking for them and not finding them. This is because when we get close to their house, they fly out of the pocket dimension, where they have satellite TV, sofas, tiny dogs and spoons so that we do not find their house, and fly away from that place. They love their place of existence. When everyone around goes to sleep, the flies go hunting and carry bread crumbs, pasta, salt, sugar into their hole, fly in and make tea. They feed their children in cocoons. On TV they show huge caterpillars on cabbages, how ants milk them, and butterflies, picking up those, carry them to a more productive place, where there is more fresh cabbage and delicious cucumbers. Sometimes, when switching channels, you can find how two rhinoceros beetles are fighting in the arena for a large piece of the ball and a girl, with whom they will mate after the end of the match. But then they smile and high-five themselves, dump the girl, split the ball in half, and go off drinking whiskey together. They know for sure that taking each other’s lives because of some woman is sheer stupidity. They are smart. And the girl stands at the edge of the arena and sighs, the locust judge runs up to her, and she does not know any other choice, and mates with him, only she cannot have children with the locust. And, if they were, they would be disabled and backward. Since then, the girl has become disillusioned with men and mates with just about anyone to satisfy her needs. Everyone started calling her that – a consumer-consumer. that taking each other’s lives because of some woman is sheer stupidity. They are smart. And the girl stands at the edge of the arena and sighs, the locust judge runs up to her, and she does not know any other choice, and mates with him, only she cannot have children with the locust. And, if they were, they would be disabled and backward. Since then, the girl has become disillusioned with men and mates with just about anyone to satisfy her needs. Everyone started calling her that – a consumer-consumer. that taking each other’s lives because of some woman is sheer stupidity. They are smart. And the girl stands at the edge of the arena and sighs, the locust judge runs up to her, and she does not know any other choice, and mates with him, only she cannot have children with the locust. And, if they were, they would be disabled and backward. Since then, the girl has become disillusioned with men and mates with just about anyone to satisfy her needs. Everyone started calling her that – a consumer-consumer.
Far, far away from where the dimension of flies lurks, there is a dimension of potatoes. There, potatoes plant people in the ground and watch how they grow, and every six months they cut off their heads and cook soup out of them. Pushing a spoon to the throat, the potatoes feel how a person gives off a delicious aroma. Stewed, fried, slices, mashed potatoes, slices, with peel – they make dishes out of people’s heads in various ways. Children especially love them, and ask for supplements. Then, mom and dad go to the garden and cut off another handful of ears, eyes, nose and tongue, and go home to fry them in a pan. Here – meat has always been in the first place, as the potato is the food of salvation in our world. There were no other animals there. But, nevertheless, if you rustle through the back streets of the beds, you can find macaques and orangutans, gorillas and chimpanzees. Potatoes do not distinguish them very well, therefore, every spring, when they go out into the dimension of people, they euthanize these animals and drag them to their home, making them in reserve. Only they often come with a large abundance of hair on the body and head, and you have to clean them off better than people – with a human cutter. Monkeys scream like not people, but potatoes distinguish only silence and do not hear voices. But as soon as a person is silent, the potato immediately thinks that this is a rational animal, and they begin to cry. For just a second, they cry until they chop them for borscht, make zrazy out of them and put whites in the oven. But as soon as a person is silent, the potato immediately thinks that this is a rational animal, and they begin to cry. For just a second, they cry until they chop them for borscht, make zrazy out of them and put whites in the oven. But as soon as a person is silent, the potato immediately thinks that this is a rational animal, and they begin to cry. For just a second, they cry until they chop them for borscht, make zrazy out of them and put whites in the oven.
Every morning outside Norway, Zlatoust Logan, the son of Wolverine, wakes up. He works in a cane field and collects sugar. He is driven by a horse, hitting him on the back with a whip, forcing him to drag a plow lassoed around his neck. Not only does he collect sugar canes on the field, but he also has to plow the land along