Meeting a penguin in the street, and it follows you home, and lets you feed it and everything -- and you CAN'T KEEP IT.
A green-haired five-year-old who has never met a swing. Nor an air conditioner. Nor a doorbell. Nor knows what school is. Who thinks cicadas are fairies.
Detatchable pigtails. That let you fly.
Aliens crash land on your body and reconstruct you with the wrong sex. (And then move into your closet, and eventually officiate at your underage lesbian wedding at the top of a phantom staircase that's over the snowfalling rainbow.)
Santa is a chick on a hovercycle. Who brings you a little sister in a sack.
Death is a cutie in a kimono riding a flying oar.
Rosa Chinensis en bouton petite sœur.
Now that you have a terminal illness, here's a comfort clone, tailored to be your perfect companion, and oh by the way she'll die around the same time you will.
And finally: "Eventually he lost patience and called a duck into the story."
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Date: 2007-05-01 09:57 pm (UTC)A green-haired five-year-old who has never met a swing. Nor an air conditioner. Nor a doorbell. Nor knows what school is. Who thinks cicadas are fairies.
Detatchable pigtails. That let you fly.
Aliens crash land on your body and reconstruct you with the wrong sex. (And then move into your closet, and eventually officiate at your underage lesbian wedding at the top of a phantom staircase that's over the snowfalling rainbow.)
Santa is a chick on a hovercycle. Who brings you a little sister in a sack.
Death is a cutie in a kimono riding a flying oar.
Rosa Chinensis en bouton petite sœur.
Now that you have a terminal illness, here's a comfort clone, tailored to be your perfect companion, and oh by the way she'll die around the same time you will.
And finally: "Eventually he lost patience and called a duck into the story."
---L.