Rhonda Herrington Bulmer
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July 30th, 2014
Baby talk
by Rhonda Herrington Bulmer

Rhonda_and_tissues[1]Dear Diary:
This morning my caretaker, the giantess, left me in a room alone for a few moments. I can only assume she thinks I can’t be trusted, for she immobilized me as usual in that infernal contraption with coloured moving wheels and buttons that make noise.

I’ve tried to tell her, on several occasions, that I have gleaned as much entertainment as is possible in that ridiculous chair, but she doesn’t seem to understand my language.

Anyway, this time she parked me a bit too close to the centre table, upon which sat a rectangular object. It had a white, ruffly exterior which was just within my grasp. Was it a feather? A protruding wing, maybe?

I stretched my arm as far as I possibly could and with the tips of my fingers, I pulled the whole thing close to my face and quite by accident, the ruffly material came away from the box! It made such a satisfactory whooshing noise.

I crumpled it in my hands and tasted it—it formed little wet crumbles that rolled around and dribbled down my front—not delectable. So I let the crumpled ruffle go, calculating the distance as it dropped to the ground.
My attention returned to the box. An identical white ruffle had taken the place of the crumpled one on the floor and curiousity overwhelmed me. I couldn’t resist pulling another one, and another, and another.

Would you believe, no matter how many I pulled out, another one appeared, exactly as the one before? I pulled and let go, pulled and let go, until they lay piled around me, flat and motionless on the ground.

I’m sorry to say that this thrilling experience ended when, after what seemed like eons of time, no more frilly wings appeared to take the place of the one before. I grabbed the box, stuck my nose inside, but it was empty.
At that moment, the giantess walked into the room and such dismay appeared on her face, matching my own disappointment. She sighed and warbled in the unintelligible way she always does. She dropped to her knees and proceeded to pack all the flattened wings back into the box.

I apologized, asking if I killed it. I even waved my hands and kicked my feet for emphasis, but as in all my prior attempts, she doesn’t seem capable of proper communication.

My body lurched as the giantess pulled my chair-contraption-thing away out of reach of anything interesting and tried to redirect my attention to those stupid bells and whistles in front of me. “Boring!” I groaned, sighing. But, dear diary, just wait until I can walk.

One Response to “Baby talk”

  1. Charmaine says:

    Loved it! Is that cute little Rhonda amidst all that tissue???

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