Imagine for a moment that on a day like today, you are very small. You love your country. No matter who you are, no matter who you voted for, no matter what your crazy ideology is, you truly believe you know what’s best.
But it doesn’t matter what you think because you are very small compared to the person that holds you in their possession. He or she decides your rights. He or she nudges your day–this day–in the right direction.
If she or he or they or whatever, is anything like me, they’ll start your Fourth of July with massive amounts of sex, voluntary or not, because… darling little person, the only independence you have is of thought.
I did tell your that you were very small.
Right now, where I am, how I am, that’s how I would start my day. I would poke that small shape hidden in fabric or skin folds, and say… “Again…” by way of “good morning”. And then, after a few agains I’d have other things to do.
That little shape, very male and very adorable, would get some sleep while I do my 4th-of-July things… but not for long. Before or after or during lunch time I would poke poke poke him again for some more fun. And he needs to eat to keep up his strength.
Then there’s dinner and more fun to plan. Where are we going to go see the fireworks? That’s for me to decide and execute, and while I make those preparations he’d be right there with me, doing as he’s told so I can focus and get the job done.
Because there’s no real independence, you see? Oh, since the beginning of time and for whatever reason you tiny people think you need to make your own decisions. It’s a very human instinct, wanting to be free and live your life on your own terms.
But on a day like today I dream there’s a version of me in a world like this one, and I’m spending the entire day with the tiny man I shrank, and he’s utterly dependent on me for everything, because he’s so very small.
The same way you have no choice but to breathe, and your heart has no choice but to beat, and your brain has no choice but to connect lines of thought, that tiny man has no choice but to be small for me.
Yet we celebrate today with all the energy it deserves. We live in a country to which I could immigrate freely, where I can come and go as I please, read and say what I want, blog what I want, and nothing can stop me. So far.
In that universe I have the freedom to shrink who I want, and on a day like today I would want that chosen man to feel that freedom. I wouldn’t stomp him, eat him, crush him, torture him, blast him with my farts nor make him smell my socks.
I might assault him a little bit, but believe the hell out of me when I tell you he’d have as much fun as I have. Maybe a few more times. And he’d celebrate every damned second I have the freedom to use his little body and love it as I do.
But back to the real world: I wish you a very happy Independence Day, whatever you’re doing today. You’ll probably spend it with your girlfriend or wife or children or yourself, but whatever you do, you’ll probably hear some fireworks if you’re in the States, or watch it on the YT.
When you do, think that those booms are my footsteps. Tiny or normal sized, let your mind transform those explosions into footsteps. Alright, not mine, but the giant feet of someone you like or love. And imagine they are coming for you, and only you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them.
And pretend there is nothing you can do about that desperate, innate desire for independence. That’s my wish for you today. You are free in real life, but maybe today you’ll imagine how much better your life would be if only you were someone’s tiny property.
I know I do.
P.S. Baseball is the boringest ball sport ever.
Best seat in the…er…outside of the house! ^^
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It’s the best seat in the world. If things get too loud, he can simply dive into her hair or other soft places.
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These days I’m less interested in independence for it’s own sake than I am in the pursuit of happiness. And what a thunderous pursuit it is…
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“The Daily Thunder”… that sounds like a newspaper for giants. Or an advice column written by a giantess. That’s my job in some other dimension.
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Actually, “The Daily Thunder” is how the Borrowers living beneath the floorboards of your bathroom refer to 8 o’clock.
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Good heavens! My first thought when I read that was, Where’s my crowbar?
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You’ll have better luck with cave-aged Gruyère.
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I’m not sure if the luck is mine if I’m just watching my valuable cheese reserves dwindle, but anything to keep those tiny people well nourished. Who knows what they’d be forced to eat otherwise.
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I had in mind some sort of trap, a pit or some other concavity.
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Traps?
Olo, tiny people are real people and have rights, and there are such things as free will, no means no, dotted lines, consent forms, etc.
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If Independence Day means anything, it means you are sovereign within your own domicile. They assumed the risk when they trespassed on your land, adversely possessed your fixtures, and burglarized your comestibles.
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In my sovereignty I deem them helpful symbionts, skilled emigres that occupy space I can afford, and utilize resources I can spare. In exchange they provide me with vermin control, amusement, and that life-prolonging health benefit of sharing my living space with
petssomeone nice. I can’t put them in cages!LikeLike
Your house, your rules. Pass the cheese plate?
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Happily!
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I enjoyed the thunderous booms last night, thank you. And baseball? You gotta see a game in person. Just take in the atmosphere, like they did in 1912. Put down that cellphone and drink it in. So much better than football.
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I was at a game in person. The atmosphere was great, but if I can’t get behind how they’re participating with the round object, my attention veers off. But yes, it’s so much better than football. Not much CTE happening either.
But nothing is better than soccer. 😀
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Allez les Bleus!
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Allez les Belges!
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