Fallen Spiced Bread Men
Not even born yet and I already got spice in my system, we must be in Florida for the winter vacation. Where’s my motivation, what’s my calling in life? My aunt that my calling is the same as the rest of us, putting a smile on people’s faces during the one time of year where we are allowed to come out the woodworks. You have to take what that lady says with a grain of salt, she’s just happy for the interaction. This isn’t the 70’s where you ziplocked yourself in a bag with lysergic acid diethylamide and hitchhike a ride to candyland. How am I supposed to be giddy when I know how it will end before it started? They say don’t even meet your idols but i’m being sheltered to kitchen once a year, there’s no one to idolize. I can’t even idolize my mum, the life expectancy for us is less than what it was for the gremlins in the 16th century. They’re lucky that this isn’t the 16th century, catch a miscarriage from eating one of my ancestors then have to stand in the trial in Salem. One thing for sure, I don’t want to meet the maker or the baker! Those greedy makers are taking all my dough, leaving me in this ugly abandoned home like the muffin man. It’s all colorful and the roof shingles are covered in a white cream like some kind of fruitcake. No one wants a house that is flesh color, that’s just asking for a wellness check from the passersby. You could throw all the funfetti at me all you want but I know that I won nothing, i’m no Queen of England. The premade pupil-less eyes still gonna have no spirit. Take this premade smile as more of a smirk, it’s just the way how my teeth and jaw lines up with one another. I’d make a run for it if I was russian, they are small and round. I would roll under the couch like a nickel and make myself inedible then wait till trash pick up day to begin life. I could barely roll over myself with all this arthritis that the gas stove passes onto me, its only half of my body that is stiff like I had a stroke. These monsters want to live in the olden days with their stove choices, it’s not like you can write it off on your taxes. They probably make you pay more if they find out, even the eels are electric these days. I’ll give them credit, at least they cut me out in the shape of a person and not some other bullshit. Of course I couldn’t move my joints like an 80s wrestling figure but it still gives me some kind of confidence for the time being. I wouldn’t even have the balls to talk if I was cut in a snowflake or a tree. Off to the gas oven chamber I go, from flesh to brittle bones. Plated for everybody to see under these bright lights is a new me with darker skin like I was in the tropic thunder movie. Spiced outta my mind, I can’t tell if this is an execution or an operation but I’m ready to go in a snap. Just like planned, the fox wants first go round with me but this time it’s less hairy and indoors. Gingerly, i’m getting pieced up like we are in Baltimore. I wished a man would have eaten me, I would have rathered been scarfed down than to be foreplayed with. The thievery of this fox, not only is my future in jeopardy but my gumdrop buttons are being taken right in front of me. I worked hard for those jeweled buttons, those were passed down to me and now they are taken away from me. Dunk tanked into the glass of eggnog feet first, left leg gone before the right like a diabetic. The other people are eating my mate’s heads first, while watching the titanic sink. Down to the torso, my cuffs are soaked but my lip won’t quiver. Only the cranium is left, I would be with Ted Williams right now if I was the Queen of England.