Brushes.

           I'm just going to go ahead and announce Friday as creative day, not Thursday.
         So,  yesterday, we got our grades for the year and I'm so happy with my results! I managed to get a high 2:1 (B) and did so much better than I thought I would. But enough about me. This is one of those rare entries where I haven't made it up on the spot. I tried doing that earlier and ended up with a talking avocado. That can be for another day though. This is a piece I wrote last year, which I thought I'd already posted, but the people who have heard it have liked it, so without further ado...

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           Every morning it's the same thing. I see a pair of feet shuffling from a room down the hall. They are bare feet, with thick skin yellow skin on the bottom and even thicker yellow toenails protruding from their ends. I close my eyes in a moment of silent prayer. I look up at the man. He's wearing the usual grubby grey boxer shorts which used to be white. They also used to be loose and are sporting Stains which resemble mustard and ketchup. His belly is peeking through the gap between his boxer shorts and his vest top; also too tight and too grey and sporting similar stains. He goes to the mirror first, examining his teeth - scratching at them to remove the fuzz that comes with a week of minimal brushing. Then he observes his hair line: receding. He scratches at his belly, grunting in satisfaction as his fingers become momentarily lodged in his belly hair. Then comes the thing I dread; he moves toward the toilet. There are some noises that I don't feel I should go into here, and the smell is so pungent it seems to grab you by the throat and shake you. Eventually, he stands. From my position I can't see the toilet roll to cast a glance of condolence for its fate. I hear the sound of tumbling water close to my ear and know my time is coming. He doesn't pause to wash his hands before wrenching me from my sanctuary. I want to scream my protest but in no time at all, my head is engulfed by the water which is still in a rush to get away from the porcelain tomb in which has encapsulated it for most of the night. Alas, it doesn't yet know where it will end up. I'm finally replaced in my haven, water dripping and collecting in the well beneath me. He begins the removal of his clothes. I want to look away but it's like one of those really gruesome car crashes. He throws them into a pile in the corner and I swear I can almost see stink lines forming. He moves towards the sink, and I thank every deity I can think of that I'm not his flannel.

        So, that's this week's creative post, I saw Pacific Rim today so I'll be reviewing that on Tuesday. Thank you for your patience this week - I've really excelled on the time keeping front. Have a really great weekend and I'll see you on Tuesday!

         Thanks for reading! Laura

                                             xoxoxox