mischievous and destructive. Aside from some wear and tear on the sofa and the unusually large quantities of toilet paper I purchase, I would hardly know he was there at all.
Among other things, jackals, flatworms, nutrias, armadillos and eleven species of spiders have been canceled as well, I see. I do miss robins and squirrels, but I daresay it won’t make much difference to me one way or the other about nutrias. I don’t even know what they are. Good riddance to the spiders. Nasty things.
“I do have to watch what I eat,” my friend said, nibbling at his bran muffin and gesturing with a butter-laden knife. “Even though I was once one of the largest animals ever displayed publicly, I have no desire to return to my old state of corpulence. No sir! You just try being eleven feet six inches tall and tote around a good seven tons and you’ll see quick enough that it’s no fun.”
“I can imagine,” I replied, nibbling at a piece of melba toast I had soaked in a little warmed skimmed milk.
“You know it took one hundred and fifty men to haul off my carcass after that locomotive rammed it?”
He’d mentioned that before, but I feigned surprise.
Day LXII
The most distressing thing happened today. I was halfway through my breakfast before I realized that my friend was not eating with me! How strange and disturbing it was, to not have noticed. After all, we’d had breakfast together every day for years and years. I wonder where he has gone to?
He did not appear for lunch or dinner, either, which is most unlike him. I checked his room and his bed had not been slept in. This worries me.
It is very hard typing this today. I don’t approve at all of the recent changes instituted by Refraction—they are making my glasses practically useless. I called their service representative, but she told me it was all to blame on the new speed of light. I don’t believe her for an instant.
Letter arrived from the Entropy Commission. Appears that there will be even more leaks. No wonder I’ve been feeling so run down lately.
Day LXIII
I find I have some difficulty in recalling just what my friend looks like. Isn’t that the oddest thing? Perhaps I need an aspirin, though I dislike taking medication unnecessarily. When I close my eyes and concentrate, all I get is an impression of two small, pleasant eyes and a good deal of grey.
Day LXIV
I don’t think he is coming back. I don’t think I will remember him any longer, either. I close my eyes and there is nothing there. I’m writing “him” because I don’t quite recall if he had a name. I’m sure he must have. I went to check his room again this morning, but it seems that I have never had a spare room down the hall from my own. His coffee cup is missing from the cupboard, too.
I had better write this down before he is gone forever. I don’t want to forget him, I really don’t. He is the best friend I ever had.
I miss my elephant.
Day LXV
Isn’t that the oddest thing? I just reread my entry from yesterday and it doesn’t seem to make the slightest bit of sense.
I see that due to reductions in government subsidies and a series of strikes that twilight, mitosis, sleet, Bernoulli’s Law, violets and parallelograms have been canceled. The water keeps rising, too.
TERA SAPIENS
T he woman sat on the edge of the stained mattress and scratched her stomach, each broken nail leaving a dull red streak. Behind her, stretched flat on his back, the man stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. He hadn’t blinked for hours. It was sweltering in the room and both were naked. The woman was leaning forward slightly, her sagging breasts supported by a pale stomach that in turn lay on bluish, veined thighs. She thought of the man on the bed, and tried not to think of him. Jesus, she wondered, and not for the first time, whatever have I come to? She placed her fingers below her collarbones and pulled on the loose skin. The breasts raised, but they were empty, flaccid things
Among other things, jackals, flatworms, nutrias, armadillos and eleven species of spiders have been canceled as well, I see. I do miss robins and squirrels, but I daresay it won’t make much difference to me one way or the other about nutrias. I don’t even know what they are. Good riddance to the spiders. Nasty things.
“I do have to watch what I eat,” my friend said, nibbling at his bran muffin and gesturing with a butter-laden knife. “Even though I was once one of the largest animals ever displayed publicly, I have no desire to return to my old state of corpulence. No sir! You just try being eleven feet six inches tall and tote around a good seven tons and you’ll see quick enough that it’s no fun.”
“I can imagine,” I replied, nibbling at a piece of melba toast I had soaked in a little warmed skimmed milk.
“You know it took one hundred and fifty men to haul off my carcass after that locomotive rammed it?”
He’d mentioned that before, but I feigned surprise.
Day LXII
The most distressing thing happened today. I was halfway through my breakfast before I realized that my friend was not eating with me! How strange and disturbing it was, to not have noticed. After all, we’d had breakfast together every day for years and years. I wonder where he has gone to?
He did not appear for lunch or dinner, either, which is most unlike him. I checked his room and his bed had not been slept in. This worries me.
It is very hard typing this today. I don’t approve at all of the recent changes instituted by Refraction—they are making my glasses practically useless. I called their service representative, but she told me it was all to blame on the new speed of light. I don’t believe her for an instant.
Letter arrived from the Entropy Commission. Appears that there will be even more leaks. No wonder I’ve been feeling so run down lately.
Day LXIII
I find I have some difficulty in recalling just what my friend looks like. Isn’t that the oddest thing? Perhaps I need an aspirin, though I dislike taking medication unnecessarily. When I close my eyes and concentrate, all I get is an impression of two small, pleasant eyes and a good deal of grey.
Day LXIV
I don’t think he is coming back. I don’t think I will remember him any longer, either. I close my eyes and there is nothing there. I’m writing “him” because I don’t quite recall if he had a name. I’m sure he must have. I went to check his room again this morning, but it seems that I have never had a spare room down the hall from my own. His coffee cup is missing from the cupboard, too.
I had better write this down before he is gone forever. I don’t want to forget him, I really don’t. He is the best friend I ever had.
I miss my elephant.
Day LXV
Isn’t that the oddest thing? I just reread my entry from yesterday and it doesn’t seem to make the slightest bit of sense.
I see that due to reductions in government subsidies and a series of strikes that twilight, mitosis, sleet, Bernoulli’s Law, violets and parallelograms have been canceled. The water keeps rising, too.
TERA SAPIENS
T he woman sat on the edge of the stained mattress and scratched her stomach, each broken nail leaving a dull red streak. Behind her, stretched flat on his back, the man stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. He hadn’t blinked for hours. It was sweltering in the room and both were naked. The woman was leaning forward slightly, her sagging breasts supported by a pale stomach that in turn lay on bluish, veined thighs. She thought of the man on the bed, and tried not to think of him. Jesus, she wondered, and not for the first time, whatever have I come to? She placed her fingers below her collarbones and pulled on the loose skin. The breasts raised, but they were empty, flaccid things
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