Petty Children

Avoiding people was my main concern. I glided back and forth. Oily heads, shiny red hair, and two pairs of small hands. Make no mistake, these “humans” are criminals. Slightly buzzing above the head-size oil mines, I find myself wondering why these big blobs look so similar. Ah! Aren't they known as “Petty” adolescents? Curious they looked. I shall address them as T1 and T2, how do I know they are twins, well I don’t! The shapes and colors looked identical. Faith I had that my Suspicions were right.

I was called… Philip, P-ilip, and Phil can’t they choose one name. Simple, isn’t it? My hairs lingered in the air, my eyes widened, and my judge toupee glimmered. Wonder what I am? Perhaps this is odd, but I have multiple eyes, no pupils, and can be labeled as a “recycling flesh bag”; any more than this is considered to be major exposure of my identity. 

Anyhow, the human in red began to crack up-in a bad way- and the other child in a yellow banana color laid on the damp red floor. Bloody, it looked. 

The legendary “bicker fight” had begun: 

“Do you have any idea how to cook this Polish Beet Soup?”

Her face quivered… “Unless you think I have the IQ of a dog, yes I do! Who else do you think is going to lead this cooking ‘lesson’? Me, of course.” 

“‘Lesson’ you say, I asked because I already made this!” She lifted her head, “Do you think you could do any better?!” Spoken like a true politician. 

I still buzzed around the clouds of colors. I had to deliver the news to myself, despite the fact that what she uttered was complete slander.Witch trials were my specialty, those trials were fair and just, just as I was long before. However, years of “no bias” wasted. Understandable considering my age. 

Moving on, the faint red and yellow circles were quiet. Suspicious, it was. To my surprise, the twins were huddled up together and seemed to be involved in a heated discussion. Impossible it seemed, deeming how pesky they were; like insects? 

“Normal is boring” she sighed. “Let's spice it up a little! Glitter would look good?! She tilted her head, “No?”

How could I define what “normal” is to for humans, I am simply seen as small spec in this world. But this behavior seemed abnormal to me. 

T2 spelled out “N-A-T-A-S-H-A”  

A similar response was given, “Y-E-S”

“That’s a great idea indeed! The soup is going to look so utterly beautiful?” 

Yelling, “Pfft, of course!

“Natasha” I believe, and her other half carefully selected a monochromatic box of dust from the cardboard box which they placed back gently. Swoop, the dust went. On the other hand, I moved back and forward aggressively. Ha…. most definitely, I have become wary of these monsters. It appeared to me that they were making a very attempt to poison a living being.

Wait my lord is this modern witchery. A fool I was. 

The peculiar-looking dust reminded me of one of the foul acts of “the witch”.

 More specifically, the lost days in Massachusetts Bay Colony, when I discovered a pretty little lady who was performing some kind of ritual with a bowl of green mess. Do not be fooled, she carried a staff with an ominous ball, which she used to create frogs. I do not continue to imagine the possible reasons for why? But, I was the judge at her trial, after all. 

In the fire which blazed like the sun, she got cooked like thanksgiving dinner, however, nobody’s stomach growled for her. Unfortunate, she was. No empathetic faces lied amongst the crowd. And the witch she was called. 

The moral of this story would be that maybe these obnoxious creatures can be found still beyond the children of today. I became overconfident in this conclusion, as that poise of mine began to seem to be so strong that it could seep through the soil.

The petty beings began again

“[T1] I brought the plates” she handed them over to T2

“You know mom hates this color, it looks like someone smeared an ugly canvas on a china bowl”

“Wow, have you ever studied color” 

“I have eyes, that I can say”

“Well then they are broken” 

The argument started to get lengthy, I grew impatient, T1 and T2 were too distracted to notice my body dive into their “divine” soup. To me, the witch pot. 

What a dumb idea that was, my anxiety started to become concerning, my eyes opened, and my legs became soggy. It was disgusting. While repeatedly reminding myself that I fell into a trap. 

The truth was I did, like an idiot I had become narrow-minded. These “witches” were no more or less than annoying giants with unmatured brains. Figuring out the fact that this red beet soup it was? Has been infected with a virus called “glitter”. 

The word, “foolish”, described me perfectly. 

Moreover, the twins had discovered a major error within their soup-making process.

“Attention….” 

“Attention what?”

“ATTENTION!” she screamed. “THERE'S A FLY IN OUR POT!” 

Confusion covered T1’s face, “are you okay? This is why you’re the lame twin!” 

“Ugh. THERE’S A FLY IN OUR SOUP, STUPID!” she blurted. Her tone became extremely sarcastic, “Oh well, wasn’t this a well-spent afternoon, huh? I’m leaving”

If I’d be able to sigh -in relief-, I personally would, as the beings had found themselves in a situation where they could not serve their hard-worked “edible” food. There, the so-called “secret” ingredient was no more a secret, I mean honestly, I found out.

Nonetheless, the very “ingredient” could be seen as magical through the eyes of the young youth. Laughable, this matter seemed.

The children resolved their situation on their own, but I sat down on a table-top, thinking long and hard as to why one had called me “attention-seeking”.

 Perhaps, were they quicker than I thought and noticing the details?

Or are these children just petty?