My Bath


Last night, events came to pass (chocolate pudding was involved), that required a bath. Foolishly, I made the decision to forgo the washing machine.  I petitioned to be washed by human hands and much to my horror, I ended up in the bath… with the boy.



He seemed more intent on drowning me than bathing me.  I saw my short life flash before my eyes.  After a time I was able to right myself and attempt an ungainly doggy paddle.



As I grew more confident, I tried some water ballet.


But then, the shampooing began in earnest.


I don't have functioning eyelids, which made things rather disagreeable, to say the very least. To be more accurate, I was in agony. In agony I tell you! The boy dutifully shampooed me, and shampooed me, and shampooed me.

The water grew black with… dirt. The tub became a soup of grime, muck and mire. I had no idea how filthy the boy and I had become over the course of the year.

I grew more cheerful. 

I am pleased to report that I am still very much alive and I smell delightfully of papaya.

Please send bananas. Thank you.

2 Responses to “My Bath”

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