Little Girl for Supper.

[merigoesround]

I picture myself as a little girl in a big blue dress with a white lace underskirt.  My hair is down--long, blonde and scragly--and, although there is a big bow ontop of my head, my hair is still hanging in my face.  Like a lion.  I've got a fork and a knife in my hands, and I'm sitting in the center on top of a long dining room table.  But I'm everyone else's dinner.  It's a birthday party, and all the guests are animals.  Some carnivores (tigers, dogs, etc) some herbivores (cows, horses, etc) some just plain mythological (centaurs, witches, etc...).  There's a putti flying mischievously around my head.  Probably cupid, giggling at me, and drunk off wine.  I picture a threatening sea behind me.  With sailboats, hot-air balloons, hundreds of sparrows, and big green waves.

I want to be tastey, I think.
If they're going to eat me, I better at least be tastey.

I'll probably cry when they open me up.  Because I'll be so embarrassed when nothing inside looks half as pretty as I imagined.  And my dress will be all stained.

At least I'd rather be eaten, I resolve, then locked up in a tiny cage.
I just hope they don't cut my hair.

I consider these thoughts rather calmly.
I can't keep thinking about them, because these folks can read my mind.
And who knows what animals like to do to little girls on tables.

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"I want to gobble you up.  And I don't care if I don't know what you're made of.  I want you.  The whole of you.  All of it.  And I'm not being selfish, I'm being rational."
elephants say