Since I promised (and didn’t follow up), I wasn’t honest.

“I wish I’d seen you for what you are earlier,” she mumbled.

 He jerked back in surprise. “Hands off, darlin’!”

“Life ain’t a sweety bowl of cherries, Charlotte.”

____________________

“We have little sympathy for single-cell organisms.”

 “You could call them by their name…” I said.

 “What?” Dad asked.

______________________

“Prokaryote…brokaryotes!”

 “We kill prokaryotes,” Dad stated. “Viruses– “

 “Well,” I interjected. “We try to. We’re pretty good at it.”

 “We step in grass…”

It’s all because we’re filthy, bloody humanists–proud ones. We’re ashamed we aren’t more; that’s it. No less.

______________________

 “You want to understand how life works? Keep on livin‘!”

 What the duck am I doing?! I thought. I can tell the difference between wrong and right.

Effectual me! Secure af, bruh…secure A.F.

I like to imagine my life as an unfolding music vidya. Ya know–muses and “ick”: they go together…

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