Monday, July 20, 2009

Fantasy Feature #407

It's a disappointment that doesn't mean anything. You walk into a hotel room with the lights off and your eyes closed, knowing that they aren't there. Only two hotels in your life had cotton balls. You don't even know why you look for them, but you do. Why do you need them. You don't do you. Salsa passes through your same test. If the salsa is good, so is the restaurant. But cotton balls. It's only every so often that you have to dab a doo on one and rub something on your face. You wish you rubbed a cotton ball on your face more often. When you were a child, you used to stick your hand inside the bag of cotton balls that lived under the bathroom sink. When you were a child you told your art teacher that you wanted to paint with a cotton ball and she said that's silly. The next day she said you could make clouds with three cotton balls but I'm warning you you'd better not be playing around. It hurts your ears to pull a cotton ball apart so it's best not to do that.

1 comment:

Dan Magers said...

A+ reverie. Pulling apart cotton balls is like fingernails across a chalk board.