Practicing Plain Text

We eat bananas.

No, we don't just eat bananas, we Eat Bananas. En masse foodstuffs travel traceur-fast through our kitchen-space--lucky to keep a tub of yogurt twelve hours after it was bought in the first place! Goodbye pears, apples, granola, and cheese; you have no chance with hungry monkeys such as these. Dairy? We really should own a farm, for the milk spilling uninturrupted into our muzzles--(Do monkeys have muzzles?)--and so much sausage comes and goes that dinner is sausage--don't laugh! It's true:

Him: I'm still so hungry tonight...
Me: It's because you didn't have sausage yet, did you?

Rumpled packages from sweet-and-spicy tea, onion skins, cheese dust, and frozen berry drippings all spot the countertops during neccessary food-frenzies. [Monkee House living comes complete with empty jars, tubs, and milk jugs galore!] Oh the yougurt--the yogurt!--it's something we just can't store. Four-five-or-more hungry bodies to feed--feuling catleaps and wallpasses, dips, pushes, lifts, and swings. Jumping, juggling, running, fighting--that's play-fighting, 'cause we're peacable, even being raw--and whatever else catches fancy that may prove acceptably challenging to take on--Rraaahhh! Bring us beefy-beef-beef soup and broccoli; carrots and avacados and eggs and honey...

We're so hungry we feast on our fears--and have, and will, for the rest of our years.

We feed for late nights and busy days, building boxes and community, discovering new ways--of living together and working for fun, supporting each other training alone together as one. Who ever thought a home could be grown of adults who are children with a serious need to play, so much that it permeates each moment, each day? Each flop onto furniture when too tired to want to move--but only because the opposite of that was, just earlier, so true. And tomorrow it will be just as true all again, so we'll buy more bananas, because it's not going to end.