The Creative Cafe
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The Creative Cafe

Unlimited Hay!

’Cause nobody limits my hay!

I’ve always wanted to live in a barn, just for the moment when I told people that I lived in a barn. The access to unlimited hay would be a close second.

“You can never have too many friends” my friend once told me, which sure saved him as I had recently been struggling with my stance on cannibalism.

We left the house with an entire briefcase full of mustard packages. That’ll show them not to underestimate our ability to carry enough mustard packages with us!

I wanted to join a club for weirdos and went through a long and arduous application process, only to ultimately be rejected. They told me that I couldn’t join as I was far too weird for them. Ummm…thanks?

You know one thing that always bothers me is when the guy next to me on the bus looks at me, recoils in disgust and hurriedly runs away, invariably tripping. I just hate to see people hurt themselves, especially on the bus.

We went to a local hardware store and, after whispering in the corner for a while, we bought all of the nails. Every single one. Seriously. No hammers, though, because that is just not what we are about.

I once grew my hair so long that no one could tell if I had shaved my beard or hadn’t washed all the toothpaste off my face before leaving the house or had used a large felt marker and drawn a second mouth on my forehead. The best freakin’ week of my life!

You are like a brother to me in so many ways, aside from the fact that you are made out of cardboard, are easily collapsible and are currently shaped like a box. The brother in my dreams is a human.

We spend the evenings huddled in the dark, sharing one piece of newspaper for warmth, singing songs of revolution and crushing large, human-sized invisible ants out of boredom just waiting for the new TV to arrive.

I wanted to buy a can of soup, but I’m fairly certain I heard it groan with displeasure when I reached up to grab it off the shelf. Very off-putting. And insulting. You think you’re so great, soup?

You spend ample amounts of time each day comically raising your eyebrows at me again and again, while I just sit there by the window morosely watching the world pass me by. Quite the odd couple are we.

We antagonistically and sadistically finish each other’s sentences showing a blatant, yet quite modern, disregard for punctuation, grammar and your grandmother’s carefully and beautifully knit intricate doilies.

I sometimes wonder how my life would be different if I was a fizzy drink and then, after an exciting hour of laying on the floor acting progressively more flat and less bubbly as the time ticks on, I’m glad to have feet.

You are always typing furiously away at your keyboard, laughing so maniacally while aggressively pointing your index finger at the screen like you are trying to teach it a lesson and it keeps trying to calmly explain that it is only a screen and has no idea what you are so worked up about.

We silently dot each other’s Is and cross each other’s Ts never once questioning why we are filling page after page spelling ‘it’ in all lowercase letters.

I always put my ducks in a row. The ducks appreciate all of the organizational help that I provide, though they fail to see the bigger picture of what I’m trying to accomplish. Good thing these ducks know their place and don’t ask too many questions.

You once waited patiently until the cows came home and then complained about how much the place really smelled of cow.

We are often compared to two peas in a pod, or more usually, one pea in a pod next to some guy standing there doing his best to look pea-like, and failing miserably.

I run to escape my demons who are two middle-aged women with large plastic visors. I run like a slightly-overweight gazelle whom the other more-typically-fleet-footed gazelles often snicker at. I run around in really large circles as one of my legs is shorter than the other and I refuse to wear my new orthotics. I run out of misplaced guilt for future actions or perhaps it is regret or possibly even spite- hard to tell when I’m so out of breath.

You often purchase heads of lettuce, bunches of kale and bags of spinach as you confusingly see yourself as somewhat of a savior for edible greens everywhere.

We often dream of a simpler time; working on the farm, taking care of the livestock, harvesting food from the luscious garden, trading of a public company’s stock using access to nonpublic information about the company gained via coercion and making our own organic tea.



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Tommy Paley

Tommy Paley

I write creative non-fiction, humorous and random short stories, unique and tasty recipes and fiction involving odd and funny relationships. I also love cheese.