LITTLE GAY SPICES
No, not a clue what she was preparing. I left the kitchen because I heard the one-legged monkey lamenting.
"Oo-hoo, oo-hoo! Unkindious!"
All of this is part on the ongoing dialogue, in which the Asperger syndrome apartment mate expresses different facets of her personality by voicing for small stuffed animals (a multitude) and inanimate objects (mortar, pestle, and peppercorns), and I play my part by vociferously arguing with them, and telling them no they cannot have banana ice cream tonight and no that's my wallet I shall NOT let you use my credit card.
Apparently I am a monumental meanie.
Which is probably why I had the vision of the little rainbow peppercorns hippity-hoppeting down the street on LGBT Pride Sunday.
With sashes and other tiny finery.
And the monkey struggling desperately to keep up, what with being one-legged and all, and not at all sure why he's showing solidarity with them, but he was told that there would be banana ice cream afterwards.
They move too fast, and no one is paying any attention to him.
He avers that that is my fault.
I am unkindious!
I moved my unkindious rump to the teevee room and continued digesting the pizza I had eaten earlier. The apartment mate continued cooking whatever in the kitchen. And the monkey continued mouthing off.
This is all normal. It's a process.
I no longer apologize for the lack of banana ice cream.
Bananas are delicious, but they make me itch.
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