Sam Edwards
English 3350
Notebook 4
February 24, 2012
I wrote this short dialogue in
response to the activity on page 115. It asked to create a
conversation between inanimate objects and the relationship between
a flower and her lesser components, pot and soil, must be an
antagonized group.
It is the middle of the night, and
the full moon is shining through the paned window of a modern
kitchen. It illuminates a lone basil plant on the sill. She is trying
to sleep to make time pass quickly till morning, but the soil and the
pot, who never sleep, are keeping her awake.
Pot: (grumpy) It's
not my fault there are holes in my bottom. That's how I was made!
Soil: (retorts) But
I lose part of myself every time the water comes! It's not a
pleasurable experience to lose part of oneself!
Pot: I should think
not. Why, I remember my cousin who had a chip in his skull. A chip!
Can you imagine? Poor fellow never recovered completely.
Basil: (sweetly)
Could you boys settle down? I need my rest before morning.
Soil: Bah! I hate
morning. Your idiotic Sun burns me and I feel so lifeless till the
water comes.
Pot:
(contemplatively) But I thought you hated the water? Thought you
didn't like losing part of yourself?
Basil: Oh I just
adore the Sun! (ignores them for a moment) His sweet smile and warm
caresses just fill me with the need to reach up and touch him!
Soil: (scowls at
Basil) That bastard. He scorches me to near death and I must lose
part of myself to feel alive again! Where's the justice in that?
Pot: I think he's
nice enough. A little narcissistic but is that really such a bad
thing?
Basil: I don't care
about that. He treats me special. I know he gives me the most
attention.
Soil: Doesn't
anyone care about my dilemma?
Pot: There's not
much you can do about it. She needs ample sunlight to live so we are
stuck because of her. Unless she get's a sex change...(chuckles at
the thought)
Basil: (gasps) Of
course not! I love me! Everyone is envious over my broad supple
leaves, tall stature and gorgeous flowers. And let's face it, I smell
divine!
Soil: (Contemplates
his existence in silence)
Pot: That's all
very well and grand but means little to me. Let's talk about
something else.
Basil: (outraged)
There's nothing else to talk about except me! The fiery sun worships
me, the earth must obey, the air loves carrying my scent, and the
water and my roots are intimately intertwined.
Pot and Soil are
silent.
Basil: (dreamily)
Ah...I can't wait till morning...
The End
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