Wallie the Imp and I were somewhat confused by today’s Daily Post prompt. Wallie refuses to let me call him a pet. Imps are not pets. They are personalities.
We had the good fortune to know a friend of a friend who does in fact own a small cat. He was good enough to send us material to help us with our post, promising a poem that would perfectly sum up his feelings for his animal friend.
It’s one of those days. A phone call (or none). A letter. A cloud over the tree. Wallie the Imp and I are not our usual cheerful selves. And as usual, when no spoken word can work out the knots in a melancholy mood, the written word sometimes comes through just right. It’s time for contemplation, an apocalypse, a woman not of this world and a man who very much is. It’s time for a little low music.
Today’s prompt posed a difficult challenge. My Friend and I were entirely stumped to reveal the best advice we had ever been given. My Imp came to the rescue. He told us he remembered an episode from the ancient days, when an acquaintance of his was charged with looking after someone else’s baby for an indefinite period of time. At that time, the sympathy and encouragement of an older person proved invaluable.
Also, please excuse the quotes–old habits die hard.
The truth of the matter is, in addressing this confessional prompt—that is, the call to describe a time when you were furious out of your senses—Wallie, my Friend, and I were unwilling to think beyond acknowledging that we had perhaps known anger once, prior to evolvement.
When my Imp and I realized today’s prompt for the Daily Post, we were naturally eager to participate. But our interest was in no way matched by the whole-hearted enthusiasm of my Friend. He threw himself into the creation of a planet as if it were the end of the world.
Wallie the Imp was annoyed. He is a conceited little fellow, and if he thinks his own ideas are being passed over for someone else’s, he’s apt to show his temper in squeezing out toothpaste tubes, soap bottles, and shampoos.
Happy Easter from Wallie’s Wentletrap! It being Easter, Wallie, my Friend, and I have been mulling much over the spiritual nature of this odd old world we live in. And since we can’t seem to avoid mixing a little strangeness into our philosophizing, I’ll share with you the result of a preoccupation with Christianity, sci-fi, and a fascinating course in modern literature.
Wallie the Imp likes to read. In Impland, Imps admire books for their practical usefulness: you can read them, write in them, and chew on them. Wallie tells me that nothing tastes better than a nicely yellowed paperback.