Stuff In Your Eye

Writer Lady calls to Dobby from her Big Writing Chair. "So what is it we're doing tonight?"

"You're writing Mom haven't you caught on to this yet?" Dobby asks in return.

"I know that. But what about?" Writer Lady asks.

Dobby sighs and rolls his eyes from his comfy spot on the couch, “I guess I have to do everything don't I?” he asks.

Dobby enters High Command, "Just pick something. Anything." He looks up at Writer Lady from his spot on the floor.
"Oh, just a minute kitty. You got stuff in your eye." Writer Lady says in an annoyingly high pitched voice. She reaches down to remove the offending goo.

"When I said 'Just pick something' I didn't mean that." Dobby says.

Writer Lady cleans her finger off with a tissue and disposes of it. "I know kitty but, there was stuff in your eye. You know I can't let icky stuff sit there like that."

“How do you explain the crap growing in the fridge then?” Dobby asks.

“That's different.” Writer Lady says, continuing her writing.

“That's stuff you eat. This is just gooey stuff in my eye.” Dobby says.

“See but, that is where you are wrong kitty. I'm not eating it.” Writer Lady says. She puts her hand over one side of her mouth as if sharing some big secret. “That's how the food gets that way.”

“Why don't you eat it?”

“Because I cook it and it isn't very good sometimes. So I shove it in the fridge. That's where inedible leftovers go to die. Besides, I'm hoping one day Tinkletoes will see it and decide not to visit anymore. Or better yet eat some of it.”

“You do know that by shoving the um...(Dobby coughs for emphasis) crappy leftovers in the fridge to die. They are co-habitating with your edible food?” Dobby asks.

“Your point?”

“The good flavors and the bad flavors are rubbing up against each other.”

“No they aren't. I tell the good food when I put it in there to stay away from the crappy stuff. Crappy friends equals crappy flavors.”

“You think the food understands?” Dobby asks.

“Of course it does.”

“Does it talk back?”

“Sometimes,” Writer Lady answers paling a bit.

“What does the food say?” Dobby asks.

“Don't eat me?” Writer Lady answers. “That's not creepy is it?”

“Yeah it is Mom. Just a little bit.”

“Oh...”

“I've been thinking. Maybe you need to get out just a little bit more often. Talk to other humans.” Dobby suggests.

“I see people all the time. I talk to people all the time.”

“Where? Who?

“At work. Grandma calls.” Writer Lady says.

“That's good. Let's mix it up just a little bit.”

“When?” Writer Lady asks. “For how long?”

“As soon as possible. Until the food in the refrigerator stops talking to you.” Dobby says.

“Really?”

“Yes Mom really.”

“But I go to the store every week there are new things to talk to all the time.”

“Mom...canned goods and oranges don't count.”

“Damn.”

***No oranges or other foods were talked to death during the writing of this blog.  No humans talk to foodstuffs of any sort in Writer Lady's home.  This is purely fictional there is no cause for alarm.  By the way, eat more produce because if you don't plants are sacrificing their offspring in vain.  Wait a sec...that was the apples.  The oranges say eat more cheese puffs because nothing dies to make that. This is just confusing.  (Sighs)  I'm done putting up messages for you!  Go back to the fridge!  It's past your bedtime.