by Liv B
Looking at life from a cups perspective
| "a glass sitting on the edge of a table."
Imagine this: You are sitting in a dark wooden cupboard, waiting in fear for someone to turn on a light, and when they do, when they finally open the door and let some light in, what comes in with the light? A hand, a hand comes in and wraps its greasy grubby little fingers all around you. They're pulling you down, down out of the darkness, and out of safety, and then filling you up with some substance, a different substance each time. Sometimes it's white, sometimes it's clear, and sometimes it's a dark red, but when they fill you up with these substances, you know what is coming next, and there is no escaping it. The next step is putting their lips, their pale, pink, dry lips onto you and drinking that substance. To make it worse, sometimes they even use their tongue. That's nasty. Why would they do that? You don't want their slobber all over you. Now if you're lucky, they'll run some water over you, rub you with a towel, and put you right back into the cupboard, back into darkness and back into safety. However, if you're unlucky that won't happen. Instead, you'll be carried, with that substance sloshing perilously around inside you, and they will sit you down on a table. Sometimes they even put a coaster underneath you, and that's nice because some of the substances tend to make you sweat. Then you sit there while they recline in an easy chair, and every now and then they'll reach over and take a sip of the blood red substance, but each time they set you down their hand is shaking a little and they miss the coaster, placing you closer to the edge of the table. Their hands are sweaty and large, and when they wrap their pudgy fingers around you it, feels like you're suffocating. This time they set you down and you're hanging off the edge, just a little. Your breathing gets heavy and rapid. All you can do is look down and see the cold hard ground looming up at you. You close your eyes because the view is starting to make you a little dizzy. So you sit there, and you pray to whomever you believe in, that the next time you're picked up, maybe they'll place you back on the coaster or back in the cupboard where it is dark and safe. You sit there waiting, and you hear this low rumble begin that slowly grows in volume. The rumble rises and falls in a rhythm, so you count the minutes with the sound. You count until the rumbling ends, and they jerk awake. They get up and stumble away, now if you're really unlucky, instead of just walking away and leaving you alone, their foot catches on the table, the table jerks and you go spinning, falling to the hard cold ground. I guess how scary this is depends on what kind of cup you are. I'm sure plastic cups don't fear this happening, but if you're a glass cup (like me) you'll fall, hit that cold hard floor, and shatter. You shatter into millions of pieces, and you can feel each piece. You can hear someone yelling, and then you can feel the brush, the brush that sweeps you into a pan, and you feel it when each of your shards hits the bottom of the trashcan, and you sit there. In shards, you sit there until you're carried away. Maybe they'll make you into something else, but you'll never be a cup again. However, I guess if you're lucky, maybe their foot won't catch, and instead they'll just pick you up, run some water over you, rub you with a towel, and put you back into the cupboard, but, then again, that's not what happened to me.