Ms Bunny

Ms Bunny, originally uploaded by artbysara.

Meet Ms Bunny. She's a right laugh. Though her teeth can be a bit much to look at if you get too close. She hangs around down the bar at the end of the street cos she gets bored at home. It's all that bunny energy...She can leap a table in one go with a pint of beer in her hand and not spill a drop.

rob the bike

rob the bike, originally uploaded by artbysara.

he works in the bristol area procuring bikes for those of limited means.

Dad

dad , originally uploaded by artbysara.

She thought he’d be a safe bet & he is. Sometimes you do actually get what you ask for in life.

Cowman

cowman , originally uploaded by artbysara.

Cow eyes make him want to weep. He thinks he may have been a cow in a past life, which is why he gave up eating meat. He’d like to believe in a higher, benevolent power but thinks this may be fantasy, so he trundles along in his daily life with the dream of waking up one day to bird song, not an alarm.
He likes clotted cream and country walks. If he could have his own way he’d move out of town, buy a piece of land and do permaculture. But he’s only read books on the subject and done a week’s course on a farm where he stayed in a yurt and was taught basket weaving and digging.
He likes wellies and women in knitted jumpers, though he keeps this to himself.

pisser of a mood

pisser of a mood , originally uploaded by artbysara.

it's november, it's cold & damp...the drizzle has even penetrated through his thick-knit jumper to make his mood even more sour. he sits by the fire drinking copious amounts of tea, mumbling to himself whilst the rain drips, drips, drips...

it's just the way he is...

it's just the way he is..., originally uploaded by artbysara.

He likes pigs. He doesn’t like frogs. If you’re a frog don’t take it personally, it’s just the way he is; he has an aversion to cold slimy things. When he wakes up in the morning he plays a tune on the thumb piano he keeps by his bed in case of the blues. He hopes it’ll cheer him up on dark November mornings but it rarely does. He sees life as being one cold, dark November morning, poor luv.

His favourite tune goes something like ha ha ha hee hee hee sung with a guttural thump and scrape cos he eats too much burnt toast. It has that kind of effect on the throat if eaten too quickly and without margarine. He likes the crunch so he can pretend he’s eating a crustacean from a million years ago. It’s the kind of fantasy he has whilst eating breakfast at 5am before dawn’s grey glow.

When he’s older he sees himself as having a nippy black car that he can squeal around corners in trying to kill cats and kids. He’s quite indiscriminate as to which. Kids are an easier target though especially when dawdling to school with music welded to their ears via ipods, backpacks on. They are an especially easy target when their shoes have those flashing red lights & their bags fluorescent strips. Nice! He thinks to himself, imagining ramming his foot hard down on the accelerator.

He’s forgotten who his parents are. That was such a long time ago, longer than a giant’s mind span. Big brains & dawdling careful thoughts & a sense of time stretching to the moon and stars, that’s what he has. And a smile that’d never melt a woman’s heart; more likely send em through the nearest door they could bolt briskly behind.

Flowery Slippers

He had a friendly, poetic aspect. He loved words. He loved watching golf. He loved cheese & pickle sandwiches & a nice cuppa. & peanuts. & chicken...with chips of course. His favourite trick was to fit as many beetles between his lips as he could & crunch them in one go. He also liked balloons & planes & biros. & spider’s webs.

He lived by the park & you could hear him at night brushing his gunked teeth & howling with the effort cos it was a hell of a pain that shot across his jaw, down his back & straight to his big toe. Brushing his teeth was one of his least favourite activities. He only did it cos there was a hefty lass over the road he fancied who wore flowery slippers. He caught glimpses of them as she sat in front of the TV. Oh to be sat beside her he thought to himself.

But it was a good job she’d always avoided him on the street cos he could've squashed her in one fatal flop. He had ancestors from some northern realm & his grizzly frame was a genetic throw back & the reason his parents had abandoned him in 1979 in the supermarket car park.

& so he lived in his bedsit talking to the spider plant & answering the questions to quizzes on the radio. He would’ve been such an asset on a pub quiz team. But he was never asked. & if there was a happy ending to the story I’d tell it but there isn’t.