we all remember watergate!
the 1970s were booming, people drove cars and smoked cigarettes and no one understood how hot alan alda actually was! it was a great time for our country, a time to be proud of both the burgeoning hotel business and sound surveillance technology! those two trends mashed their figurative genitals together and gave us watergate, amerika’s crowning political achievement.
now, women can have buh-bortions and racism is covered up with a tiny shawl so it doesn’t look as bad but is still very bad! but americans still want to know-where is our generation’s watergate? why do we have to be left out of a kooky political pajama party?
well there is good news! a source close to kaye reveals that there is a tiny new watergate that most people haven’t even heard of. that’s right, just last month, unbeknownst to most of the country, an unidentified tree frog with a little baby camera infiltrated the outdoor amphibian headquarters. in what looks like some sort of fucked up sex thing, another frog poses on the practical bed with storage drawers, unaware that everyone can see them because the headquarters is outdoors.
once the footage is released to the mainstream media, further investigation is sure to follow. in the meantime, rejoice! everything is just as good bad as it was in the seventies, except now we have diet coke!
Close your eyes and picture a two dimensional dreamscape devoid of oxygen where gravity is 4x what it is on Earth. Now take away the oxygen and insert towering structures made of bleached bones and tiny mirrored cubes. This was my Otter’s dreamscape, and along the crumbling blood-blackened paths we have walked together.
I met my Otter in late 2016, as the world was ending and our days were beginning to turn into a hellish gauntlet of hateful ideas and disintegrating democratic power structures. He was sunbathing on a patch of blue ice, slowly opening and closing his little fist as he watched the clouds pass over his concrete pen. “Otter,” I breathed softly, stepping closer to the wooden fence.
Growing up, I pictured myself still using poison sprays or bait traps at thirty, leading a life that was one step removed from actually feeling the snap of a roach’s exoskeleton in my palm. It was as clear as the wedding dress I’d lovingly picked out at the age of ten-but as most of us well know, a lot can change in twenty years! I didn’t end up wearing that mermaid monstrosity and I definitely just put my finger down firmly on the slick back of a roach skittering across my kitchen counter. Sometimes the future doesn’t end up being what we dreamed of-it’s usually even better!