Monera Mason is a mischief-maker.  Her work includes: starting questionable cults with notorious software gurus, writing abstract fiction, catalyzing shenanigans which she deploys on unsuspecting bystanders in the City of Neon. 

Stuff and Fluff In Memoriam

A menagerie existed, gathered on our adventures.  I had to leave them behind and it haunts me that their fate would have been happier left on shelves.  

Pastie found me in a blank space of a room that served as our seats for carpet cleaning. A mini Zamboni of booty dropping beats was lumbering outside the door.  The twerking crowd trapped us, and she sort of never left my arms.  Later she stole my fuzzy bow with the bat and made it all hers.  She was the color of toothpaste which was also a code word for the final drops left at the bottom of the container, the kind that had to be squished out. 

Horny was a mastodon who looked like Mr. Snuffleupagus, only we both could see him.  Eddie's world the magical place of many toilets in the kingdom of Yermo was where he was discovered.  Fallen amid the salt water taffy he looked so lonely.  I tried to find a Big Bird, but such yellow feathered friend escaped me.  There is an early man site on the road to the ocean, and perhaps it was where his kind met its meteoric doom.  

Inky Pinky was the baby of Peach and Bowser, and she was born with the crown upon her head.  She came with a suction cup though it never was able to carry her weight.  Mostly polite she yielded power to the king of that bedroom.  Her fat body was so squishy, and she liked cloudy better than gravity. To be fair, we all did.  

Bertrand mostly was the silent, judgemental, panopticon who could only ever find fault.  His unicorn horn was a beacon and his rainbow eyes full of scorn.  A spirit animal of the kind of unspoken misanthropy that permeated the house with his arrival.  He came on Valentines weekend but not as a gift.  That weekend I got nothing, just three gifts for himself. Despite the fact I took care of comfort, I was only rewarded with condemnation.  

Oh poor Fleur her ending was so horrible.  Her beginning started with a cast that contained a line from Flowers of Evil which became her namesake.  It took a long time to heal her leg. I found great comfort on the softness of her ears.  She knew how much I was hurting and how it felt like my heart was cut out. She became the donor of the will to carry on, her hand a reminder of Titus and how some things feel worse than death.  I held her body for so long before it happened, her face was wet with tears.  Sacrifice was worth the healing she assured me.  She knew that in my eyes she would find a lifetime of regret.  Resigned to do what I shouldn't she died that night instead.  

Tedbear was a relic of a boy who used to love.  He was first confined to the closet shelf in the event he got too hugged.  I cried so much when I heard of such a fate for faithful he had been.  Eventually, he relented and consented to hold him once again.  He was sweet to all the affection, and I loved him nestled in my arms.  So many kisses on his forehead between his little ears.  Fleur loved to cuddle him when we were missing.  I had to return him with sandy.  Last I saw him he looked so alone, staring skyward, lost amid the beige. I wonder if he is confined to preservation once again. Emprisoned against ever-changing, a bear so full of life and sadness, already so very worn.  I hope he's loved and knows I miss him. That I'm sorry, he is gone.  

Misreading Tarot

Foxes and Gardens