The Objects sat in the quiet space of the gods and the plains of baser thought.

“Let’s be quick, before we are medicated,” whispered Reason.

Loneliness and Sadness swept through and were gone, making their energies known.

“There is nothing quick about any of this,” Elder Object said.

Then Middle Object protested, “Why must we be so worthless.”

No answer, for none was to be had.

Younger Object said “Let’s do something fun!”

Memory, stenographer of the group screamed, “Sex, lets have sex.”

Elder Object cried, “Pipe down, Memory. Recall ‘What can’t get up…”

The two Objects and Memory finished, “…can’t get out.”

Id laughed, “Christ, old boy, you need some new material.”

Meanwhile, Machismo stood at the mirror, touching itself, laughing like an idiot while its companions, Fear and Paranoia hid away, wrapped in each others comfort.

Middle Object snorted, “Why’s it always the female that calls for sex and has to transcribe these meetings?”

“Because we’re caught up in a man’s world of male pronouns,” Intelligence answered before anyone could interrupt.

“Go sit down, Intelligence, you weren’t invited to the party,” Ego shouted.

“Quiet, Ego!” Elder Object commanded.

Ego slunk off, butt-hurt and angry into a shadow, “Screw you, Freud!”

“Food!” called Hunger.

Not one response came as it loudly grumbled away to fend for itself.

Elder Object finally answered Middle Object’s question: “Who said it was a ‘she’ or ‘her’. ‘They’ is plain enough.”

Intelligence quoted, “But pure language! To be or not…”

“You can go away too, Mr. I.,” Elder Object said.

“Talk about the needing for new material,” Middle Object declared.

Younger Object cried out, “I wanna drink, I wanna forget.”

“What do you want to forget?” Middle Object asked.

“How worthless we each are,” Younger Object frowned.

“If we drink,” Memory said, pointing at Machismo, “We fuck, we forget our worthlessness and I want that.”

Elder Object snored, fell asleep, having heard all the machinations all before.

“Let’s fuck,” Memory shouted merrily, as Elder Object sputtered out wet and sticky.

Anger got pissed and Humor giggled.

One thought on “Objects”

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