Lament of The Briny Green Crayon

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Abstract

orture device for the Dragon king’s enemies, including that devious Dr. Pteradactyl Laser Eyes. Fate’s cruelty was not done. Ere long, a napkin reeking of pickle juice came to rest beside me. I spent a night next to this malodorous napkin, adopting a secondhand aura of briny vinegar. Perfumed as I was, a foul beast snatched me from that prison of garbage, no doubt mistaking me for a loathsome pickle. The trash ravaging monster soon discovered that my insides tasted nothing like my outside, but not before she broke me in half again! Did she bother to return me and the other detritus to the rubbish bin? ABSOLUTELY NOT! Like roadkill, we were left there to rot until such time as a more evolved, mature creature might arrive and bear us back to the rubbish bin.”<fig

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ure id="e133"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*v03eLrAj_UWXzEFX70n6iA.jpeg"><figcaption>The suspect, photograph at right, asserted, “it’s not my fault the crayon was next to tasty things…” then added “What’s a cray-on?”</figcaption></figure>I heard this refrain from a green crayon, victimized by my chocolate lab, Lucy. Lucy had plundered a trash can for a napkin that’s been used for a pickle, a paper tray thing with some leftover cheese specks from Bagel Bites, and more napkins in a variety of flavors. I found it peculiar that this crayon should meet with this fate. Made me think about all the innocent bystanders in the pursuit of satisfaction. Here’s to all the innocent crayons!FIN</article></body>

Lament of The Briny Green Crayon

It sings for the victim in all of us

“Would that that kid hadn’t applied so much pressure while using me to color the reptile skin on the dinosaur zombie robot! As it was, I couldn’t stand the force and snapped. Alas, my fate was the same as any broken crayon! Forget my loyal service as I dutifully filled in for blue crayon when the kid, barely able to find her own thumbs, needed to color a pond next to the dragon king’s fortress. It was my color of that pond that inspired her to pretend that the pond was a rotting pool of fish guts used as a torture device for the Dragon king’s enemies, including that devious Dr. Pteradactyl Laser Eyes. Fate’s cruelty was not done. Ere long, a napkin reeking of pickle juice came to rest beside me. I spent a night next to this malodorous napkin, adopting a secondhand aura of briny vinegar. Perfumed as I was, a foul beast snatched me from that prison of garbage, no doubt mistaking me for a loathsome pickle. The trash ravaging monster soon discovered that my insides tasted nothing like my outside, but not before she broke me in half again! Did she bother to return me and the other detritus to the rubbish bin? ABSOLUTELY NOT! Like roadkill, we were left there to rot until such time as a more evolved, mature creature might arrive and bear us back to the rubbish bin.”

The suspect, photograph at right, asserted, “it’s not my fault the crayon was next to tasty things…” then added “What’s a cray-on?”

I heard this refrain from a green crayon, victimized by my chocolate lab, Lucy. Lucy had plundered a trash can for a napkin that’s been used for a pickle, a paper tray thing with some leftover cheese specks from Bagel Bites, and more napkins in a variety of flavors. I found it peculiar that this crayon should meet with this fate. Made me think about all the innocent bystanders in the pursuit of satisfaction. Here’s to all the innocent crayons!

FIN