Meet A Small Section Of Douglas' Head

So, I'm sitting here feeling particularly evil. I want to be mean and kick some kittens, which I want to kick so much that I originally spelled it "kickens", but I won't, because I would feel really bad about hurting cats, and that pre-guilt, the guilt you feel before you even commit a nasty act of violence that you are not even going to commit, makes me feel even meaner. Why feel guilt for nothing? Phooey.

I made this little monster guy today named Douglas. When I make these monster things, I don't know what they're going to look like at all. I'll start at what I think is the bottom, and suddenly it feels like the top, and I'm sticking eyes where the thing's butt was supposed to be, and his intended cuteness turns into a cigarette butt dangling from his mouth. Ralphie was supposed to be a cute bunny rabbit, not a dead cat with a really pronounced butthole, and Edwina was supposed to be a nerdy guy in vest, not a pasties-wearing, deranged slut.

I am saying "butt" far too often.

I'm not going to show you Douglas right now, because he and I have developed a bitter antagonism toward each other during his creation today. Oh, okay, here's one of his eyes and part of his hat:


He has ended up looking both fearful and anxious. And legless. He has no legs. And only one of his eyes has eyelashes. He just doesn't feel done yet, but I think that is because he is a hollow shell of a little monster. Why must I develop these unnatural attachments to complicated yarn knots?

I tried throwing Douglas across the room, but it didn't make me feel any better, even when he hit the Palinode, so I've shoved him into a drawer until tomorrow when we can start fresh, re-introduce ourselves, and fashion him a decent yarn cigarette. Nicotine withdrawal might be part of his problem.

Grace In Small Things: Part 86 of 365

Grace In Small Things: Part 85 of 365