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Rated: E · Fiction · Comedy · #2039952
Experimenting with an unusual perspective. Any feedback appreciated!
Where’s mother? She hasn’t yet noticed that I have awakened. Perhaps I had better alert her.
Here she comes, scuttling along in those noisy shoes of hers. I do wish she wouldn’t wear them; I don’t like the sound of those noisy shoes.
“Mother. I do not like your noisy shoes.”
She can’t understand me of course. It’s frustrating when you try to speak but all that comes out is a babbling mess. That’s the trouble with being 8 months old.
“I awakened, Mother, and now I need my nappy changed.”
I don’t think she needs me to tell her that, by the look of the face that she is pulling. I see that face whenever my nappy is full. It’s a screwed up sort of face, with the nose all wrinkled in. You see many strange things when you’re 8 months old. I think that people forget that you actually have eyes. I don’t know why, they must have been 8 months old once too.
Mother left Oscar in my cot. I’ve been telling her for the past 10 minutes that I need Oscar but she doesn’t get him for me. She tries giving me all sorts of things; milk, cuddles, and even other stuffed animals. I tried to tell her not to buy those. I said to her “I have no need for any other stuffed animals, Mother. I just want Oscar.”
She bought them anyway and so I told her “Fine, but I won’t play with them.”
I just like holding him, pressing his fluffy cheek against my own. Soaking up the smell of Oscar. Kind of like what Mother used to do with Father, I think. Before he left and she didn’t. I don’t know where he went, my father. I do hope he will come back soon because sometimes I see Mother crying. I think that sometimes she forgets that I have eyes too.
Oscar is safe by my side again. “It’s nice to have you back, old friend” I tell him. He doesn’t need to respond, I already know he’s glad to be back as well. Maybe someone will bring Father back to Mother the way that she brought Oscar back to me. Then maybe I would see her laughing and smiling like she used to, instead of crying like she does now. That would make my happy too, I think.
Perhaps I could give Oscar to her. I do have lots of other stuffed animals, after all. I ask Oscar if he wouldn’t mind.
“Oscar, you wouldn’t mind looking after Mother now, would you?”
He doesn’t need to respond, I know that he doesn’t mind.
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