This afternoon, I was sitting in the tiny park across the street from my tiny apartment, oscillating on the tiny swing, a tiny canned coffee beside me with tiny sand barnacles clinging to it. I was only a tiny way in to my book, and the tiny pigeon steps were initiating a tiny percussion performance beside the only-moderately tiny sandbox.
I was just reading the sentence: “He would've reached out and stroked her beaver, I'm fucking sure of it, except that only Barry would have noticed,” when a tiny old Japanese grandma, whose tiny vertebrae aligned themselves at a 90% angle to her tiny legs, started talking to my not-so-tiny, white shoulder.
Even if I could have understood her Japanese (which imitated, in a tiny way, the language spoken by a rice field at dusk), I just couldn't concentrate. I was completely overcome by the polar opposite of tiny embarrassment.
I mean, who did I think I was?! Sitting there, reading about beavers being caressed (and subconsciously fantasizing about my own beaver gnawing on a tree trunk) in the presence of such a kind, wise elder (albeit slightly impaired in the realms of articulation and height)?
But I couldn't let grandma read the last sentence from my book through my eyes, so I bowed my head and told her I would love to visit her family for dinner.
(Oh, man! I think I misplaced my sarcasm today!! If you come across it, please return it to me immediately. You can spot it by its tiny, glittery beads on its tiny, pink toe nails.)
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4 comments:
Ha! No, your reading is correct. Had lines been read between, my beaver might just have emerged from the dam for a tiny 'baachan brawl!
(Of course, my Beaver, she joketh again..)
Oh my! Maybe all grandma wanted was a quick dekko at your book? Would hve been one freaked out ole lady in the park! lol
..."tee hee.."... giggled the blushing beaver.
And the trophy goes to.... Nicole!
For having guessed that the tiny quote from this tiny post was from "Stonedogs" by Craig Marriner.
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