After learning that the soft feathery hairs on my back contained magical powers, I trimmed them and boiled a tea that I served to Jehovah's witnesses. Studies found that it increased their creativity 93% which had an alarming effect on the world around me. Soon, instead of bicycles, they arrived at my door riding hover skateboards, which only inspired my stunt man son to do more dangerous moves. My entire reality was at risk.
Never mind-
I will explain something easier to understand, like...
How it wasn't really the fact that I didn't have the designer jeans, but the idea that I wasn't worth them....
1 comment:
Oh, this passage is good. This is really good.
And the jeans? You're not worth the jeans.
IF I had to reduce your worth to a clothing item, it would be a gossimer gown woven of the filaments of gold harvested from the moment the morning light of the Morning Star first alights on the first daffodil, stitched with silver threads spun form the make-a-wish eyelashes of only the most ancient mermaids.
Something like that.
-N.
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