New Hay

relatable experience

Sometimes you’re lying down daydreaming, and you’re thinking about “what if bugs still couldn’t speak, but they could sing in English?”

You’re uncomfortable. You shift. No better.

You think about bugs zipping around singing hits from the 50s and 60s in English, but dang, the hay is itchy today.

What’s up with the hay today?

And then you remember, oh, they changed the hay this morning. The new hay doesn’t feel right.

They have to change the hay sometimes, you think. The old hay was moldy, but this hay smells too fresh. There are no bugs in this new hay. What the hell?

You try to get comfortable on the bare cobblestones. But you’re going to be up all night with this new hay. Dammit.

You grab your metal plate and throw it against the wall, and it ricochets back and gets stuck between the second and third sections of your carapace. It takes a solid five minutes to get it out.

This day is going to keep kicking you in the balls, you think.

Just then, you think you hear a tiny voice singing about a blue moon.