Unwound

Unwound

They hunted me down. It was a scramble, but they captured me finally, carried me home as if a trophy catch. I waited in a dark room for months. Finally, today I’ll be able to perform my sacred duty.

But wait, what’s this? The female of the tribe is taking something from a package. She wipes her private area and flushes a piece of paper.

I want to shout, “Hey, that’s my job! Why are you using that other product? Use me!” I think of this as another person enters the sacred throne room.

Again, the package is opened, a sheet of paper is taken out, the private area is cleaned and the paper flushed.

Again, I want to protest. Why am I resting here on this roller? Why was I kept in solitude for weeks, only to be tortured by watching another product take my place? I ponder this for a time.

Then into the space comes another being. Aha! This one is different. Perhaps it knows the proper use of me.

Tiny feet hurriedly unwrap all my body. I’m left with just a shadow of myself. I’m undone. This creature leaves without cleaning up the mess it left. I have no words for my shame.

“Misty! You rotten little cat! You wasted an entire roll of toilet paper!” And with that shout from the male tribe member, I am cast aside. Into the trash I go. Another member of my group is set into the allotted roller space.

I want to warn it. ‘Beware of the tiny creature that will undo you!” But before I have that chance, I am tossed into a black plastic bag. Then that bag is tossed outside into another dark space. I breathe my last.


W/C 292