“If you shit where you eat, you eat shit.”
Mutters the Little Martian with a rumbly glower.
“Haan?”
“This shit never works out! Love- dove- kiss my ducking- “
“yokay okay!”
I cut him off before he can complete his sentence. The Little Martian has made it a point to mug up obscenities from thousands of intergalactic dialects.
“Who did what now? Is it Estella again?”
“Who’s Estella?” replies the Little Martian with a stupid wink.
The Martian blusters and prances but you can see the tiny fluster, the rippling ruffling valley in his heart that he works so hard to hide.
“You know, heartbreak is all part of the parcel… you can't have the good without the bad.”
The Martian looks at me blankly, pops a flaming Cheeto in his mouth, and belches, loud and smelly filling the room with a porous orange fog.
I hack my way through the yucky muck and throw open the beautiful bay windows in my room.
The air clears and glistens, like a field of daisies after a drizzle.
“Stop romanticizing everything!” the Martian grumbles, as he runs his hands through his hair angrily.
“You can pretend it’s anger, all you want… but it's okay to admit that you cared a little LM..”
The Martian kneels over, clutching his chest, arms stretched out in mock hysteria.
“Oh! My heart! My poor, broken human heart!” he howls emphatically.
“What are you doing?” I rush forward, afraid he’s having some kind of extra-terrestrial epilepsy.
“I’m letting myself care a little. “
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