Eating Your Words – Comfort #25

Posted on May 9, 2011


Nobody else wanted them. They had been sent back to him rubber stamped with red ink that read: rejected.  That’s not true. The truth was that he had stamped all of those words himself and had never sent any of them off. But to be frank, that is not completely honest either. He had sent some words to the local newspaper once, only to have them sent back missing their fingers and toes. Now there were so many of the words loitering about, on the couch and in the commode, that he could barely find a moment to think. Actually he thought quite a lot during this period, but the words were beginning to drink and smoke and mate on his suede couch and this behavior was making him angsty. Since no one wanted him and since he did not need to keep up appearances and since he was a broke writer, he began to eat the words in a fit of gluttony. He became friendly with the Health-0-Meter. Since he loved stories and was no longer writing stories, the Health-o-Meter told him one. It was a sweet tale about numbers that continued to rise and rise.  But that is a romanticized version. What the Health-o-Meter had said was something like: you are getting fat.