S'kay Blogger

I watched with amusement as Blogger stared at the blind covering the window. When he finally spoke, the words that came out didn't surprise me at all. "This window is filthy" he jibed, a clearly smug smile appearing on his lips. I rolled my eyes with inevitable disappointment and strolled towards the 'filthy' window. He stared at me with that smug grin on his face that would be enough to make his mother slap him, clearly pleased with himself, but that smile would soon vanish. I pinched the white ring attached to the 'window', and the gray blind flapped back...showing the glorious glistening sun, the orange tinted rooftops and the amber foliage, and most importantly, the crystal clear window. Blogger's smile faded then, and a new expression I enjoyed a lot more replaced it. At this point, I couldn't help but feel smug as my eyes bored onto Blogger's humiliated face. "S'kay Blogger, honest mistake", and suddenly he was filled with delight. He skipped off then, a dance in his step and I was glad he was content.

Tapping Fingers

My fingers tapped impatiently on the pallid coloured table. I was waiting for Blogger to get ready-- he couldn't decide between a blue tie, or a 'navy' blue tie, he just kept insisting there was a significant difference. I gave up persuading him an hour ago, and so I sit, tapping away, waiting impatiently. It wasn't until another hour, when I had started assembling the fruits from the fruit bowl into order of size, that he trotted down the stairs, wearing a red tie. "Red?", frustration clear in my voice. Blogger simply said "Actually..it's crimson". He exclaimed no further. I looked at him disapprovingly, my lips twisted up slightly, fighting back a grin, until he then clarified that he "read the label", and my eyes, filled with doubt, rolled. My eyes then swayed back to the table, where my precious keys lay, just waiting to be used.The car ride there was incredibly infuriating, Blogger found it appropriate to sing along to one of Weird Al Flankovich's, or Yankovich's, remakes of a song that was distasteful to begin with. Pressing my fingers onto my temples, I stepped out of the car, into the racket of the outside.The first few hours of strolling the shopping center were a blur. I distinctly remembered, unfortunately, Blogger's getting frustrated with the cinema's wide screen. Then the flashback of him hammering the screen with his fists, while blaring, "LET THE BIG PEOPLE OUT!!" popped up into my memory. I shuddered at the thought. After that incident, I was advised to send Blogger home. My thoughts were stolen away from me then, and I found myself sitting alone, tapping my fingers, thoughtlessly, on a russet coloured bench.

Stars & Light Bulbs

Stars are pretty. Stars are pretty and glowy. I wonder what they are...

Are they fairies? Angels? Or are they millions of light bulbs? "Fwink?"

"Yes Blogger?"

"What are stars?"
"Stars? Stars, Blogger, are big exploding balls of gas, mostly made up of hydrogen and helium." I scrunched my eyes in confusion. I preferred it when they were light bulbs.
"Why do you ask?"
"I dunno, they just got me thinking" I decided not to think about it much. I got bored of the stars eventually. We were lying on the grass in the garden, staring up at the light bulbs. The wet grass and cold breeze made me shiver. "What are you thinking Fwink?" I turned my head to the side so I was able to look at him.
"Nothing special". I waited for him to say more. "Actually, I am waiting".
"Waiting?" I asked. "For what?"
"A shooting star". I rolled my eyes the way Fwink did sometimes.

"Those... are not real". I smiled then. I am way smarter than Fwink. He thinks they are real!

"Oh, I wouldn't say that" That's the only thing he could say, because he doesn't know if they are real. "A shooting star isn't really a shooting star. It just looks like one. Remember when I said stars were exploding balls of gas?" No. "Well, a shooting star is the common name for the visible path of a meteoroid as it enters the atmosphere. A shooting star is also broken pieces of meteors that have become broken off in space". I dropped my eyes to the grass, he thinks he is so smart.

"Think of them as stars, or gas balls, falling out of the sky". So... Falling light bulbs. It must hurt when they hit you...

I looked at the stars again, regaining some interest. "Stars are pretty".

"Yes, they are Blogger". Yes, they are.