“Seriously, mom. I think this thing is a meteorite, and it’s sounds like it is singing.”
“Well, Stella, sounds to me like you’ve got a mess,” countered her homebound 81-year-old mother.
“Well, mom, it does look wet. And I think it is starting to stink,” replied Stella as she leaned toward the thrumming rock lodged into the floor of her dining room. She stepped back and winced as her nostrils began to burn. “Yep. There is a definite funk in the air.”
Her mom took a deep breath before making the curt proposal, “Stella. Can’t you just pick it up and throw it back out the window?”
“Hmm,” considered Stella. “I think I smell something like snips and snails and puppy dog tails. This odd odor and the sounds emanating from the meteor make me feel light-headed. Perhaps, I’ll take a nap…”
Her mom was having none of it. “Cut the crap, Stella, and roll that thing outside before it starts growing hair.”
Today’s post is the third part from the continuing saga about “Stella’s Visitor.”
I composed this post last night while watching TV in bed and before creating the image using the ArtRage app on my tablet.
Let’s go, #NaBloPoMo!