When Pliny came home from shopping this afternoon she noticed above the front door a deceased millipede. It had obviously been there for quite some time. The millipede must have been trying to enter ( or leave, you couldn't tell ) the house when someone had shut the door, squashing one half of its body and trapping the rest. Half the body was flattened against the door frame, and the other half was mummified into a rising arch of pain.
This may have been why, when she was putting away some of Nostradamus's socks, and saw a live millipede crawling across the carpet, she picked it up and, juggling it all the way to the front door, tossed it caringly into the garden.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment