I wanted to create an imaginary situation, something different and non-plotted. Happy 25th! This is also my hundredth post of my beccaaudra blog 😀
junk :: captivity :: edible :: sombre :: full moon
Let’s eat from supermarket rubbish bins, you can get birthday cake unblemished from the junk. Still edible, barely out of date. We could rummage in the depths, our hands grazing huge black plastic swathes, unpeeling sandwiches from mouldy banana bunches. Their sealing is starting to mist but they are still good to eat, tuna mayonnaise, tuna and sweetcorn, ploughman’s style. There are some old candles in the back of the cupboard; we could scrap at the lighter with our thumbs and open the flame with a final stern flick. Light them and scatter them around the cake like throwing breadcrumbs to ducks. Then we could open the door of the small cupboard, allow the small being curled into the corner to unroll and pass it a paper plate. It would pick at it with its finger tips, gnarled with long smooth nails. We would laugh, and pull at each others fingers to hear the joints click. Our mouths would be heavily loaded with icing, and when we became sombre, we would shut it back away, the sweetness dying quickly. The moon would be waxing to full, and we would link hands and drink the cheap ales in heavy bottles, the tapping from the cupboard slowing to a sluggish pulse.