The Day Walls Spoke?

I was walking home from class one day, or rather, one night, for the sun had set a long time before. I shivered and zipped my coat up as a cold wind whipped around the corner of the history building. I wished for summer, or at least early fall.
Stopping at the corner of Main Street I waited for a brief pause in the oncoming headlights then walked across. On the other side I stopped and pondered, for I had two options. I could walk down Main Street and take the way which was longer but had street lights, or I could take the short way, which had no lights. I decided to take the short way, partly because it was as we all know shorter, but also because I knew every bump and bush on it.
Proceeding down this dark road I was blinded by the cars, but this was no concern to me. I just stepped a few feet off the pavement and onto the lawns. This strategy worked well until I came to the top of a hill, where there were no lawns. In fact, there was nothing at all. The side of the road was a steep bank with lots of bushes. Usually I would have walked in the road at this point, but it was dark and the cars would be coming over the hill with too little time to see me. I decided to cross the road and walk on the other side. This was not much of an improvement; it was the same steep bank, only without the bushes. Finding I couldn’t walk on this incline, I climbed to the top of it where there was a stone wall. It was in many respects a normal stone wall, except it had been built with flat rocks. Walking along the wall, I soon passed the place where the road was so dangerous. I looked down to jump off the wall, and saw that it was only about 8 inches high, an easy step. I stepped off the wall, and into 2 feet of leaves.
I fell, hopelessly trying to regain my balance and wondering how the ground had so inexplicably given way, for ground is not in the habit of doing so. I said I fell, but that would be a lie. My 30 pound backpack and I fell, but my knee didn’t. It decided to stop and have a short conversation with the wall. The knee and the wall conversed thus, and came to the conclusion that the encounter was painful. The knee decided that this was important information, and wouldn’t the brain like to know? The brain said that no, it wished this information had not been given to it, but now that this error had been made perhaps the best course of action was to call the wall a pile of cow dung. This accomplished little, so the brain called the backpack a pile of cow dung. The backpack responded that it was merely an innocent bystander, and could the brain tell the body to get off, for it was squishing the $200 TI 84 calculator. The toes asked what all the noise was about, and why was the knee being such a wimp? The knee told the toes to shut up and get a life. The brain asked the right knee why it was always running into things, to which the knee responded it was the brain’s job to watch where it was going. The brain said it was the eye’s job, and the eyes said they didn’t want to get involved. The knee said it was time for a change in management, and the butt volunteered. The kidney said something, but no one could make out what it said except for the liver, who collapsed into convulsive laughter until the heart told it to shut up. The brain was silent, so the mouth decided to take matters into its own hands. Calling everything within earshot a stinking pile of cow dung, it voiced the general opinion of everyone involved.
Having thus driven itself more insane than it already was, my body struggled, got up, made sure the TI 84 and the knee were both in one piece, and hobbled home. My knee insisted in swelling up and becoming quite painful.
I think I’ll fire it.


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