The Budge-Nuzzard

My brain has children. This is one of them. Click post titles for the podcast version.

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Location: Weem-Ti

Newly arrived and hideously gnawed.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Moist and Salty

During my long residence within the Sha-Una, I have had much time to look within me ere I looked without. My first mentionable observance was that I no longer thought so dearly of my sweet abode. Indeed, this northward road has now usurped that place once so highly held. One might even say that the northward road now was one and same my sweet abode. Although the road is not so much my abode as is the Sha-Una. Since I was so thoroughly stuffed into this cavernous, warm, and somewhat moist marsupial pouch I have come to be quite fond of it, though I must admit that the salty taste it leaves upon one's tongue is to be avoided at all cost. All taste aside however, I find that it is a most peaceful and womblike abode. The bouncing along and the rhythm of my benefactor's loping soothes my road-weary bones and speaks to me of otherwordly comfort that I had never suspected could exist. I daresay that were it not for that bitter taste that I find upon my tongue each time I wake that I should like to stay here for at least some portion of eternity.

At intervals, I have ventured to let my eyes creep out of the pouch and spy what they may of the world without. Often they have seen little more than the blur of fields and trees rushing past, but on at least one occasion they suffered a robiderant sight the likes of with I should not wish to hear of again. Great waves of Leapers Wee they saw on all sides of the Sha-Una. They leapt and wailed and assailed that hairest of allies, and yet were undone by the very determination of the loping that bore me onward. Though wee they leapt they were no match for the hairy loping wonder that they hoped to arrest. And so did mine eyes report that the Sha-Una once more proved triumphant over all evils Wee and Leaping.

I know not how long I shall be borne herein, nestled deep within this hair and warmth. But be it days or hours, or even but another minute, I shall cherish each moist moment and hold it dear to my brain, for who knows what horrors wait whence this loping ends.


Blogger Andrew Peterson said...

I just gagged a little at the moistness in the Sha-Una's havenous pouch.

Saturday, March 18, 2006 3:20:00 PM  

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