Category: Trinkets

“Monkey, monkey, please come down!” said Squirrel. “You can’t stay up in that tree forever. Not when there’s so much down here to see and do. You’re being really boring up there!”

But Monkey couldn’t hear Squirrel, so high had he climbed. And up and up he climbed until he could hear nothing at all, until he became one with the mute forms of mineral and bone. And that was Monkey being REALLY boring.

Eventually Monkey climbed so high and became so deaf that he was carried away by a great clap of thunder, which of course Monkey didn’t hear at all. Monkey was not even witness to his own transcendence, if that’s what we want to call it. And by now Monkey has become so boringly inert that there’s no reason to keep talking about him . . . so let’s not.

NG & SS

This is the fourth installment of our new collaborative series called “Trinkets” in which very small things have very small adventures. See how we’ve been making ourselves small-minded.

Ooh, that grapefruit looks so delicious, how the sun is shining on its glistening segments! This succulent citrus surprise has always been a weakness of mine. My proboscis would be quivering with anticipation if it weren’t for this glass coffin that I’m encased in.

Hmm…maybe if I hurl myself into this machinery I could shatter the exoskeleton I’ve been fitted with by that cursed lepidopterist who thought it would be oh so cool to line up a collection of me and my friends on his mantelpiece. Then I could eat that grapefruit!

Well, this is unfortunate. Here I thought the butterfly goddess and her two acolytes looming ahead of me might be of assistance in my predicament. Perhaps she could have freed me herself or at least pushed me into those cogs. But in my haste to prostrate myself before her I inadvertently broke my coffin in half and lost a crucial part of one wing! Apparently my structural integrity has been forever compromised by this glass.

Let this be a lesson to all my fluttery friends: Never trust a lepidopterist! (Even if they come bearing gifts of grapefruit…)

SS & NG

This is the third installment of our new collaborative series called “Trinkets” in which very small things have very small adventures. See how we’ve been making ourselves small-minded.

Mud-Rabbit is feeling nostalgic today and has floated away on a golden memory. But then he frowns. What’s up, Mud-Rabbit? Something gnawing at you?

Ick! A stowaway! Seems this nostalgia is plagued with Doubt. How is Mud-Rabbit going to enjoy himself now with Doubt scampering in every dark corner and nibbling at his provisions? Better do something quick, Mud-Rabbit, before this small Doubt becomes an infestation!

Actually, scratch that last thought. A pirate ship called the Hard Truth has just appeared in the offing and is heading toward Mud-Rabbit full sail. When it catches up, it won’t much matter. Hey, at least that infestation problem will be solved!

NG & SS

This is the second installment of our new collaborative series called “Trinkets” in which very small things have very small adventures. See how we’ve been making ourselves small-minded.

My cat, my cat, my dear tiny cat—she has escaped! I keep her in this red box so I’ll always know where she is. Now she is gone! But…to be truthful…I don’t think she was happy. Often at night I would wake to the sound of her claws scraping the underside of the box lid. At first it frightened me! But I grew used to it and found it lulled me back to sleep. Now how will I ever sleep again? Oh, she’s such a stupid cat…she can’t have gotten far missing one leg (or possibly two).

I’m a cat, I’m a cat, I’m a CAT…and—I’m free! Free of my abysmal life inside the red box owned by that horrid lady with the weird giant collar she was always threatening to strangle me with. Well, I’ll show her, the old bag. She always said I’d be nothing without her, how only having two, maybe three legs at best put me at a disadvantage in the world and I’d never make it out there on my own. But the joke’s on her because I know how to get a leg (or two) up…

Hmm…apparently getting a leg up doesn’t mean what I thought it did, although I still could use one. But wait…what does it say at the end there…one’s last legs…means ‘at the end of…’ The end of what? Am I on my last legs?! Oh gosh, why did I ever leave, it’s so confusing out here…I wish I were back in the safety of that tin box, sharpening my claws on the lid so as to slit the old crone’s throat right through her enormous collar! Miao! Hsss!

SS & NG

This is the first installment of our new collaborative series called “Trinkets” in which very small things have very small adventures. See how we’ve been making ourselves small-minded.