“You’re squishing me!”
“You’re a pillow; don’t you like being squished? I loooooooooooove being squished. Physical Touch is my love language.”
“Well, my love language is Alone Time, so get. off!”
“Sorry, but since I too am a pillow, I don’t have any appendages that can help me to move from one place to another. So, we’ll just have to enjoy this time together. I just love time together. That’s my second love language – Quality Time.”
“Well, my second love language is Get Off Me Before I Start a Fight With You.”
“Oooooh! Pillow fights! I just looooo-“
“Shut. UP. If you can’t move, at least just be quiet for one minute.”
“Okay.”
…
“Minute’s up! Do you like this new slip cover? The Lady bought it at IKEA. I love all the Scandinavian block designs on it, don’t you? I love the mossy green. And the gold. Gold is my favorite. Second to navy blue and third to grey which you can also see on here. See? See my pretty – “
“RRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!”
“Eek! Boy, you are a grumpy pillow. I’ve never known a pillow to be grumpy before! Now, what can we do to cheer you up? Hmmm.”
“I have a great way that you can cheer me up.”
“What’s that?”
“Shut your mouth.”
“I don’t have a mouth. It’s a seam.”
“Whatever. Shut it.”
“Well. Okay. If that would help you to feel better, I’ll try to keep it down. But first, I think what you really need is a hug.”
[SQUIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH.]
Emily M
“Ahh, finally some peace and quiet!”
“Umm, excuse me, but what are you?”
“I happen to be magic, in a bottle.”
“Okay, little bear, what on earth gives you the impression that you are magic? I can see right through your insides!”
“The small person who filled me with these powerful jewels and liquid was obviously magical, and I heard them tell the others that I’m a potion.”
“Uh, clearly.”
“Clearly you think you’re pretty clever, but what exactly are you? You look like a big boring box with a hole in the middle.”
“Well, you want to talk magic, I magically create toys.”
“How exactly do you do that?”
“I somehow know exactly how to melt this spool and spin it into the toys they tell me to.”
“But why is it so noisy?”
“It’s hard, hot work. You think you’re glad for peace and quiet! All this spinning and screeching around wears me out.”
“What happens to the things you make? Do you get to keep them as friends?”
“You saw what happened to that last little object. The people wisk them away as soon as they’re cool enough to touch.”
“Sounds like a raw deal to me. Do you ever even get to leave this boring room?”
“Only when I’m going on a long trip to someplace teeming with the small people. Then they work me all the harder.”
“Wow. I’ve never been out of this home since I was brought here. I was a newborn when they found me with all my brothers and sisters, filled with a sweet, sticky substance, above a bin filled with apples. That’s all I remember. But ever since I came here, I have been loved and played with by the little people, most of the time. You have to love those little people.”
“Yeah, I wish they played with me more. They seem mostly interested in what I make. You’re not bad company though. I’m glad to share space with you, but I really need to get some rest.”
“Good night!”
Cedar
“Hey Tape.”
“Hey Stapler.”
“Welcome back to the desk, Tape.”
“Thanks.”
“Where were you?”
“Wrapping Christmas presents!”
“Oh. I was worried you’d been moved. Permanently.”
“Miss me?”
“Well, Hole Punch didn’t feel like talking too much. It didn’t even want to argue about which of us is best. When I told Hole Punch I was better, it said ‘hm.’”
“I don’t see how you can even compare yourself to Hole Punch. It doesn’t stick things together, like you and I do.”
“Hole Punch and I both make holes in paper.”
“I guess.”
“What do you mean, you guess? We DO both make holes in paper.”
“You make holes in paper for different reasons.”
“Yes. And I was prepared to argue with Hole Punch that MY reasons for making holes in paper are the best reasons, and all it said was ‘hm.’”
“Well, while I was gone I thought of the very best reason ever for why tape is better than staples.”
“Oh really. Why.”
“Because Tape wraps Christmas presents!”
“You don’t do the actual wrapping, you know.”
“Pretty much. You know what I mean.”
“I don’t see how it helps your case. What’s so great about Christmas presents?”
“STAPLER. Don’t pretend that wrapping Christmas presents isn’t an awesome job.”
“It’s a vulgar job, like everything tape does.”
“No. No. See, I taped some really fancy paper over some really fancy gifts. For really fancy people, probably.”
“You also probably adorned those charming, lumpy packages the kids wrapped themselves. How ‘bout the paper with cartoon characters printed garishly all over it.”
“Both. Proving again that I’m the lovable, family-friendly one. Thanks for bringing that up, Stapler.”
“It just proves—“
“What is THAT?”
“What, the desk calendar?”
“New guy, huh? What’s it have to say?”
“It’s very moody. …”
Emily H
It was 7:00 am, and the mother had just left to take the kids to school, leaving the house abruptly silent after the flurry of noise and activity that had accompanied the eating of breakfast and the gathering of backpacks.
After a few moments of prolonged silence, the Surfer Dude Hoodie (SDH) felt that it was safe to speak, so he said, “Well, looks like another day of just hanging around.” This statement was met with a burst of squeaky laughter from the Pink Trucker Hat (PTH) hanging on the hook beside him. The laughter continued for awhile, so long in fact that the SDH might have been alarmed, except that he had now been hanging from his hook in the kitchen for roughly two weeks, and had become accustomed to PTH’s ways.
As PTH caught her breath, she burst out, “That is literally the funniest thing I have ever heard.” And she giggled a bit longer, just for good measure.
If SDH had had eyes, he would have rolled them. PTH was an ironic hat, but she didn’t know it. Emblazoned across the front, in all caps, was the word LITERALY, intentionally misspelled. It was designed to both exasperate and amuse any lover of correct grammar and syntax, but PTH was unaware of how meta she was, and instead seemed bound by an actual need to say “literally” every time she spoke. (SDH was never sure if she was saying “literally” or “literaly” because, of course, the misspelled version would probably sound the same.)
PTH giggled herself into a happy silence, then remarked that SDH was literally the cleverest hoodie she had ever known. “How many hoodies have you known?” he questioned.
“Oh, literally dozens,” she replied. “The last one was all decked out with a fringe of mane around the hood and little claws at the wrists. It literally looked exactly like a real live lion skin.” And she burst into affected laughter once more. SDH got the impression that he was meant to join her, so he allowed himself one perfunctory “heh” and then resumed his chilly silence. He was not looking forward to another day of conversation like this, and he wondered how long it would be before he was removed from his hook and taken somewhere else — anywhere else! — to hang in the house.
The hours ticked slowly by. SDH heard how PTH had literally died when she first saw the toddler wearing the lion mane hoodie, how she was literally over the moon when a new purse had been hung a couple hooks down, how she was literally so happy she could burst when the mother had worn her outside to do some yard work, and how she liked to give literally one hundred and fifty percent in all her endeavors.
PTH thought he was going to literally lose his mind, when suddenly the sweetest sound met his ears. The family was coming back in the house, but only briefly, and the mother called out, “Kids, grab a sweatshirt! It’s chilly out!” The next moment a hand grabbed him and he was whisked away, but not before he heard a quickly whispered “Goodbye! This parting will literally break my heart!”
Elisa
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