I sit up and look at the ceiling. Grit and dust sift lazily down into my bath water. The noise is unmistakable. Rodentia are fucking above me. I trot the smokejumper out for a spin but find he's devolved into an asexual blur.
New fodder is needed.
I call my best friend Po-Po at work and ask him if he'll have sex with me. I haul out The Stranger and peruse the ads. I've been called many things in my day, but diminutive is not among them. Appalled, I hurl the offending rag across the room. I stomp into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee down my enormous throat.