As stated before in my other blog I have flaws. We all do. A flaw of mine right at the moment is that I’m full ambien mode which means the points I make to be funny will be serious and the ones where I want you to take me seriously will be about kittens getting caught in a picnic basket with expensive jellies and jams and mini cookie cracker things.
But to get this out of the way before I start saying things that really make no sense, I would make a great husband. I’m nice. I’m cozy and quiet but also up for fun and frisky. If I were to die suddenly you would be able to preserve your own much more important existence using only my now dead body. In fact, as I bring you into the honeymoon suite and lay you on the bed I slip a pamphlet explaining the ways to tay alive by eating your now dead husband. If I am to die. Which I don’t will be happening any time soon. But it’s good to be prepared. And let me say that the Keith Cook Book is made up of hundreds of usues of my body; from the edible aspects to being able to use me to go through the car pool lane on your way to work, to heating your home by using good old me. Hair burns well, and while it does have an offputting odor I come handy with various scents of your choosing to mask the smell of burning death.
But enough about the what if’s of the relatiosnhip. We’d go for walks. On a spring or summer day we could go paddleboating down at the ol’ lake and watch the ducks land and take off in their gracefulness. We could collect flowers and wonder what names we would give our children if we felt the need to bring beautiful children into this world. They would of course be beautiful because they came from you and I.
We would go on adventures around the world. Visit far off ports and dive in unchartered seas. We’d dine in lavish castles and go horseback riding through lush countrysides, stopping by local villages to purchase a tiny trinket or to pick up a native secret as to remember our time among these people. And when the day was done we would find comfort in our warm cozy home. And life would be lovely.
How could anyone kill someone in a situation like that? No hate could exist in a place like that. Only love. And love there would always be. Because we will worship the same God and have same skin color.*
*I’m kidding. Translucent isn’t really a color. More a…something else.