You have no items in your cart. Want to get some nice things?
Go shopping
It crashed on its back, its legs up and wriggling. And I found myself envious of its natural voluptuous gaster—my body was eager to fill out in the right places—as it twisted its thin waist this way and that way, struggling to get back on its feet.
In all its brown glory, it displayed its athletic strength, making numerous attempts to climb the base of the gleaming toilet bowl.
Again, it tumbled; again, it tried.
Reaching out to help, I shoved a paper underneath and lifted it to the safety of the potted sansevieria labyrinth by the window. There, it could run through the web-like underground roots and glide on its abundant, sword-shaped leaves if it got tired of crawling at any time.
My finger pressed against the flapper, and water rushed excitedly from the rim, showering away my dark urine. Leaning against the cold tiled walls, I flexed my neck and inhaled, worrying about improving my liquid intake.
Slumped over with random thoughts, I noticed little ripples and squelching feet, and I watched as this creature relentlessly performed a skill not assigned by nature—swimming.
By Linda Temienor-Vincent
