Category: Food and pumpkin pies

July 1, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (XXII)

“Sounds” – I talked to Pablo about deer ticks and he told me their full name is “ixodes scapularis” and that they drink an animal’s blood four to five days before letting go. He said they can spread lyme disease, but that humans are more susceptible than donkeys. Maybe that’s why there aren’t as many humans in the woods. Maybe now that I know more about deer ticks, they will be less interested in biting me.

June 30, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (XXI)

“Tastes” – The grass didn’t taste as sweet this morning. I think it is because of last night’s pie. I suppose flavors eat each other like one sound eats another. I wonder if a donkey doesn’t taste as good to a deer tick after a deer tick has tasted a deer?

June 29, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (XX)

“Smells” – Bonny and Pablo made a pumpkin pie. I could smell it from the other side of the lake. I walked to their cabin to tell them I could smell the pie, and they offered me a slice.

June 25, 2016

“Blurtso hears a whisper” (XI)

Harlan? said Blurtso. Yes? said Harlan. Do you ever get frightened? Frightened? said Harlan. Yes, said Blurtso. Sometimes, said Harlan. Why? said Blurtso. Well, said Harlan, when you consider how fragile things are–life, love, happiness–and how they’re certain to vanish, and the nothingness that follows, it’s natural to be frightened… but you can still be optimistic. You can? said Blurtso. Sure, said Harlan, we still have a tin of chocolate, and plenty of whipped cream.

June 23, 2016

“Morton’s Pond” (XVII)

“Tastes” – Thinking about eating. Me eating grass. Clouds eating colors. Sounds eating sounds and ticks eating me… even thoughts eating thoughts. Everything a big circle of eating.

May 25, 2016

“Blurtso learns a lesson”

Look at all that hay! I wonder if I can fit through the fence?

Oh, oh, my ears won’t go back… and I’m too fat to go forward.

I guess I’ll just have to stay here. Hmm… I can’t even reach the hay. That’s all right. I wasn’t hungry in the first place. I just wanted to stuff myself. I wonder how long I’ll be here? Someone is bound to come along. Someone with a super-modern high-tech donkey-saving tool. I don’t know why I wanted that hay, I wasn’t even hungry. But I’ll be hungry tomorrow. Then I’ll want that hay. But all I’ll have is the grass in front of me. I’d better be careful. I don’t want to eat it all. I’ve got to save enough grass for the next day, and the day after that. And I’ve got to leave enough on top so the roots don’t burn. Fortunately I’ve got a puddle of water, so I won’t die of thirst. Unless I have gas. I’ve heard that methane contributes to global warming, and if the temperature rises, the water will evaporate and the grass will burn. All because I wanted to stuff myself. And I wasn’t even hungry.

And so the days passed—night after day and day after night—and Blurtso tended his garden, eating only what was necessary to maintain his strength, and drinking only enough to slake his thirst. And from time to time it rained, and his puddle filled and his grass grew. And every day he looked at the hay, drying, splitting, and losing its fragrance, until one day when he was enjoying his morning snack… he slipped through the fence.