07th November, 2013: 11:08am
Today, the Daily Prompt’s Return Address wants me to do:
Yesterday, your pet/baby/inanimate object could read your post. Today, they can write back (thanks for the suggestion, lifelessons!). Write a post from their point of view (or just pick any non-verbal creature/object).
I wrote a note containing a sweet word for my best friend (ie; my bedroom) yesterday because, finally, we can talk to each other and now she answered back. Suddenly, I just wish she’d shut up again. Here, read her answer:
I know, right? Long time NO CLEAN! What the hell is wrong with you? Why are YOU blaming ME for all those dirt and dusts that clings on to me? It’s not my fault I’m too irresistible! And, how could you, blaming all the dirt on me?! Who sleeps in that too-cute, comfy bed, anyway? Was it me? Nope. It was YOU, my dear.
Oh, and please, why would I take your place? Thanks, but no thanks. I’m pretty sure you enjoy your work so much and besides, you seem to enjoy it so freaking well so who am I to stop you from doing what you do, right? Plus, you’re THE BEST at what you do so I think our current set-up is fine by me already. 🙂
One more thing, please find a way to stack all those books on the floor up your gorgeous bookshelf. Now that you don’t have anything left to read except the one you’re reading right now, I’m a hundred percent sure that you’re going to buy more books this coming weekend. Put that eyebrows down, YOU worthless thing. I know you will. Wanna bet? 🙂
Look, friend, just clean the place already so you won’t get sick again. I promise, once the place is clean, you will feel much better. Now, get your ass up and start sweeping so both of us can finally breathe fresh air.
Did you read that?! What a beyotch! I swear, if I could just put a tape across her mouth, I would. I’d even use washi tapes, double adhesive tapes or any other tape stronger than that! God, my bedroom is so… *shaking my head*
And why is she blaming ME for all these? I was the one working my ass up here so I can earn money so I could keep its beauty; why should I be the one to clean it up ALL BY MYSELF?! Since when did my room turn into my mother? Trust me, they sound alike!
God, she is so freaking me out right now.