Leave It Alone; It's Mine

     It was just one of those days where you couldn't even find the facepaint on the monkey that you traded your chicken in for. I yelled and screamed and burned and steamed, but all that that did was cause everyone around me to try and color me yellow...I didn't need any color and I didn't want anyone bothering me. I needed to change the subject so I grabbed my dancing shoes and ran a marathon around the bakery in my brand new overalls..It didn't quite do it for me, but apparently it did for the daughter of the baker inside with her lips pressed against the window...Nevertheless, I'd lost the nay-sayers as they'd disappeared into their own curiousness. I thought that it was pretty ironic, but that made me enjoy it all the more..Around that time I began to count the clouds in the sky, but I'd left my glasses at home—so I had to fake it..I wandered down the road as I pointed toward the heavens occasionally; as if picking out one after another...It was the fourth point—I believe—when I'd finally realized that I was humoring no one but myself...I then shed a few tears and pulled out my journal to jot down a couple of quotes...They were mine and they comforted me...I ate my journal in haste; for I could not let those presumptuous pygmies adulterate the offspring of my soul..Although it made me gassy, that simple fact only helped to remind me of its impact..It was all that I could do not to remorsefully leap off of The Ninth Street Bridge and into mortal oblivion...But the book was just too darn good....I was at an end...And if not a definite end, then I needed to find a new beginning.. and quick...So I sat and pondered over myself...........Ahhhhhh........And then I knew..............I was just hungry...

Vincent J. Vera