Objectophilia

In the normal course of events, a glimmer of an idea sparks a conversation between me and my friends.  This conversation then spawns a story, or more usually a drabble.  Sometimes though, this process works in reverse.  The drabble spawns a conversation.  Harry’s sordid love affair with Ginny’s blanket in my cliché spoof drabble tipped Rose into a confessional mood.

Rose: I have affairs with lip gloss and hair dye, dangerous affairs, those are.
Fish: I had one with a red silk shirt, but it ended badly, and, my current tryst with a hairbrush just isn't fulfilling.

While makeup and clothes have some small charm,  they never can compete with our mutual true love, food.  Unfortunately, all of our relationships have ended tragically.

Rose: That cake and I were doing fine ‘til I ate him.
Fish: The peanut butter cups and I loved each other, and then my mom had to ruin it by stealing them.
Rose: I hate it when mothers steal true loves.  Me and karaoke, though... we're going well.

If I could carry a tune without the assistance of my favorite long metal tube that I hold sideways and call a flute, I might steal Karaoke away from her.  I hear he’s a lot of fun.  Despite my miserable relationships with food though, I can’t seem to drag myself away.  Finally I seem to have formed a stable relationship.  The spark is there, and he doesn’t seem to mind commitment.

Fish: The carborundum coated aluminum pans and I are engaged.
Rose: Oh la la!
Fish: But the finish is coming off and their true colors are staring to show through, so I may leave them and throw wild parties with the muffin tin.
Rose: Scandalous!

Sometimes I worry about Rose and myself.

Fish: Did you ever wonder if we might qualify for medication?
Rose: I never could stand him.

But usually I don’t.