Buffets

They say pets and their owners eventually become one. Like they start to look like each other or act the same way. Well, a buddy of mine has a puppy who won’t eat out of her bowl. She growls and sniffs the kibble and eventually chomps a mouthful of it and races out of the room, then hides under the dining table, spits it all out in a pile and eats it, bit by bit, until it’s gone. Then she runs back for more, chomps another mouthful, and does it all over again.

That’s how my buddy eats at buffets.

Technophobe

She avoided computers at all cost. “Computers hate me,” she would say, which became a burden to other employees who took up the slack in work she didn’t do. I swore to never enable her, and one day peeked into her cubicle to see what she did all day instead of work.

She sat there, spaced out, doing nothing. Finally, she reached for the mouse – and the monitor smashed her in the face. The monitor arm recoiled to its original position as she cried softly.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She turned, her nose bleeding. “Computers hate me,” she whimpered.

Exposed

There is an object that has the power to reveal your innermost thoughts and desires. Run your fingers over it, and the object can show you everything you are. It takes practice and patience and courage, and the reward is immeasurable.

I find I dread the object. Doesn’t make sense, as all I want is to dig to the core, to discover truth, expose it for everyone to see. Still, I’m afraid. Will the object rip my fingertips to bloody bones? Electrify me? No. It’ll expose me for who I really am, and that the most frightening thing of all.