There is a story about a baby that self has been pondering for weeks. Weeks! Here’s the beginning:
“Worn Smooth by the Passage of Time,” by Jenn Marie Nunes
By boyfriend gives me a baby as a going-away gift. It is a blue-colored baby. Looks sort of like a potato and sort of like a piece of sea glass and I am not even sure it is a baby, but that’s what he says when I unwrap it.
“I want you to have this baby,” he says, “to remember me by.” And he picks up the plastic bag with his shirts and socks and the special set of pints he’s stolen from his favorite bars.
“Thanks,” I say. I would rather kick him in the shin, but it’s very early in the morning and I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“Word,” he says and walks out the door.
Read the rest of it here.
What is it with self? She takes such pleasure in the grotesque.
Do not read the rest of the story if you are the least bit squeamish, dear blog readers.