I posted this yesterday but for some reason (it’s not x rated) it disappeared. It was a piece written in response to the Daily Posts – daily prompt. The aim was to write a story about yourself from the perspective of an animal, other person or object. Below (if it doesn’t disappear again) is my effort. Is it clear whose voice is telling the story?
This new pursuit of hers is going to be the death of me. Groaning in protest I again brace as her not inconsiderable bulk is lowered none to gently into my lap whilst my arms embrace her. She leans back, rocking gently, her left-hand pinching her lip; a sign that she is deep in thought.
How long will this session go? The only respite comes at seven ; her regular dinner time. She may be up and down before this. The dog has to be fed and walked, a drink may be needed or if she has missed lunch, hunger pangs might take her momentarily to the kitchen. It wasn’t this constant until she started this blogging business. She used to write in the morning and then give me some rest in the afternoon. A short stint after she’d fed the dog: before she, herself is fed. That was all I’d have to tolerate. Now she even gets up from sleeping to look at those dashed blogs. She flops down, my castors straining as I again envelop her in my welcome.
It doesn’t seem as if my torment is ever going to end. Drastic action needs to be taken. The next time she collapses into me I’m going to expel my gas. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. She’ll plummet towards the ground. She’ll not be able to reach the keyboard. Blogging will have to die.
It worked. She now has a bruise on her backside from the sudden stop she made at the base of my shaft. I’m getting a rest. She has swapped me with the other office chair. I’m being wheeled out. I’m in the car. Oh no! What is she doing. I don’t want to go anywhere I just want my old life back. I’m at the tip. Hopefully they will try and sell me in the shop. I don’t want to be crushed. I had enough of that at home.