Mr. Peanut

[hummingwolf]

After being saved from certain death by crushing--after being rescued at the last minute from being turned to powder underneath the wheels of a swivel chair in the kitchen--a grateful peanut sat on a sheet of the Sunday comics and told us about its life. It told us of great escapes, hiding in the fields from animals both wild and domestic (it was a very old peanut). It told us of years spent fighting for the right to vote (it tended to vote for Southerners out of solidarity, though it would vote for a Northerner if conscience prompted it). It told us how it had not always been popular with the other peanuts, but it loved its fellow peanut all the same. And then finally it put on sunglasses (so it wouldn't be recognized), said its goodbyes, and walked away down the dark city streets.



That was definitely one of my sillier dreams.

Comments

[hummingwolf.livejournal.com]

Actually there aren't swivel chairs in the house I live in now, but there were in the place I grew up in. My dreaming mind doesn't worry too much about whether the places it shows me are anything like real places--it takes elements from anywhere.