The Surreal Times has recently bought out “The New Mythalogian’s Diary of Doubt”, and with that purchase, we are proud to welcome a few new semi-regular articles. The first of these to be published in the latest installment is acclaimed children’s writer and sage of The Verdant Green Hills of Ireland, the one and the only: Tommy Origami.

Alright, boys and girls. While I was sleeping in my neighbor's trash bin, I found a little piece of paper. And written upon this paper we find a family feasting:

Father said with an electric grin, “Woo boy, oh boy, I love me some turkey. It is slick and it is a slimy shady devil and I like it. What do you think, Todd?“

“I don't care, DAD,” spat Brother.

“Oh, come on! In MY house, we respect meat! One day you just may be eaten yourself!”

“I hope someone eats you, DAD.”

Tanya gleefully interrupted, “I like it, Daddy.”

“Good for you Tanya, You always had my pallet”.

Brother snarked, “I’ll make some dark meat around your eye, TANYA.”

Brother’s words broke my heart. It wasn't a shock. I expect Brother to say things like that. But I kept that shock in a glass bottle deep in my heart and when it broke I knew that I'd never be surprised again.

“DAD, no fair, why does SHE get an internal monologue?”

Does this nice little story have you on the edge of your seats, then let ol’ Tommy fill in the rest. My dear little readers, when my pen touched her name on the paper, the young girl started coughing up ink and minced words. Though, because you can't hear them, I’ll clue you in: her last word was “gobbledygook”, how festive haha…

Oh, my little readers, then Brother and Father cried, pleaded, and prayed to a carousel of their carnival gods, but all to no avail. There was no answer, my dear young readers, my pen refused to move. Only I had the power to move that pen off the girl’s name on the puddle of ink on the page, and a dot soon flooded the sentence and when it did Tanya's neck was flooded too. It spat out a puddle of ink in Tanya's Trachea {aren't alliterations fun=)}. When I got bored, I folded up their paper world, and Uncle Tommy got a new nose, and boy it smelt good. Their world fades and then they're forgotten.

The moral of this story: “Respect your parents or I just might eat you all or let you swim in my nostrils.” Oh, another groovy moral is: “Don't think about what you eat, or something just might eat you too.” Oh and one more moral for the road: “If you swim too deep in any rabbit hole, then you just might meet some unexpected worms in the place of bunnies. Listen to them to or I will eat you.”

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