YOU ARE NEVER ALONE

Courtesy of a reader, I now know about "Duckie". Who has self-delusions of grandeur. Friends! Influence! Good looks! And not being actually a stuffed animal. Formerly white, fluffy, clean, and dressed in goggles and a super-hero cape, Duckie controls a family of humans who have hosted him for over two decades. Which is not an unusual situation, my own household has a bear, Ms. Bruin, firmly in charge of small fuzzy things, and a recent arrival, Sydney Fylbert (a turkey vulture) who is a reprobate of monumental proportion.

Plus many others. And a completely imaginary little girl hamster.
Who visits nearly every day. Best friends with the cat.

Shan't even mention the goats who come by.
Dancing buddies of the "Head sheep".

The most talkative creatures are on my apartment mate's side, ensconced in her room. From which I can sometimes hear fierce disputation among them, or squawks of outrage.


Ducky and Ira Glass: Poultry Slam, act one, fish


Naturally, as you would expect, I am the voice of sanity, reason, and balance in this apartment. Which is why I often threaten one of the furballs that I am going to tell Ms. Bruin what they've been up to. Or firmly yank my possessions back, telling someone that just because they found stuff, they cannot lay claim to ownership of it. A hammer ("we will NOT be flattening anybody, thank you!"), the magic bowl of quarters ("my laundry money!"), the hack saw ("we do not play doctor here"), and also my cherished smoking equipment. Such as Sydney Fylbert is clutching in this recent photo.

How do you intend to puff on this, when a beak is not optimum for clenching, young man?
Besides, you don't even know what kind of tobacco you prefer.
Latakia blends? Virginia Perique mixtures?
And NO smoking inside!

Not infrequently, the actions of the turkey vulture, or the froad, or even a small purplish gorilla (the "Control Monkey") leave me trembling with indignation. They all have stupendous egos, and consider themselves well nigh omnipotent.


The Control Monkey, by the way, came from the toy company where I worked for more than a decade. He lived in the Marketing Department, and those heartless bastards left him behind when we moved. So I brought him home. He's slightly dysfunctional. As you would expect from someone who was support-staff for Marketing "geniuses" for a long time.


For some reason which I've never understood, the dysfunctional ones live on my side.
Possibly because they need a mature adult in their lives, for guidance.
An eternally calm and rational 'avuncular' figure.



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