I bet you’re curious now, aren’t you? Even if you’re not, I’ll be more than happy to share this with you anyway: at each of the four corners of my room stands a magnificent glass vase that stand at three and a half feet high and are molded into the shape of a rose. The details of the roses are highlighted with red and white cubic zirconium, while the color of the rose itself is provided by the nectar that I’ve placed inside. Between these vases lies an intricate glass labyrinth (for lack of a better term) that twists and turns all over my walls. On my bedpost lies a clock that regularly pumps this nectar around a smaller rendition of the wall design and sings a little tune every three hours. Finally, the darkest, richest shade of crimson fills up the inside of my waterbed. Now, unlike most waterbeds, the mattress is clear so you can actually see the color swirling around inside. On the one hand, balancing the spectacle of seeing the mattress and admiring the sheets can be a chore at times. But considering that my mattress doesn’t sway nearly as much as a typical waterbed, I’m more than willing to put up with it.
“So,” I started with satisfaction, “what do you think of my collection? Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sadly, my dear detective didn’t answer me. In fact, he didn’t even look at me! After what seemed like hours all the man could manage was a grumble that sounded something like “excuse me” and abandoned me. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out just what had come over the detective. Was he going to be rude and flee like my former friend?
Then it hit me: he must have been jealous! How I pitied the man when I discovered this, but I also felt an old sense of pride consume me. When really stopped to think about it, this was the first time since I started gathering nectar that I had actually given anybody a tour of my home. In that time I had completely forgotten the thrill I used to get upon showcasing my skills in home décor. (Not to mention my joy at watching my neighbors writhe when my skills proved superior to theirs.) Grinning madly to myself, I vowed to resume this old hobby again once my current guest had left.
Speaking of my current guest, I became rather concerned about the detective after ten minutes had gone by without a word. Leaving my room without another thought, I caught him hanging up on what appeared to be a rather serious phone call and holding…test tubes?
“Is everything alright?” I asked out of curiosity.
Without answering my question and dropping the formalities the detective mandated, “I’m going to take you downtown.”
Shocked I asked, “Whatever for?” From there he proceeded to remind me of the various flowers and animals that had reportedly come into my domain over the past several years and had since gone missing. This bit of knowledge alone, as he put it, was enough to warrant my arrest.
Whatever the other reason was, I never got a chance to hear it because as quick as lightning the detective whipped out this dingy pair of handcuffs and ensnared me in them. As he was preaching the Miranda Rights to me I couldn’t help but sneer at the awful dance of the siren lights. Honestly, whoever decided that it would be okay to combine these colors in such a fashion was clearly color blind! I begged the detective to cease that infernal sight, but he ignored me and shoved me into his car to complete his brazen intention.
It was bad enough that my so-called “friend” treated me so inhospitably, but now the detective? The fact that he feigned having manners just so he could put me through such humiliation made him a snake in my book; a bottom-feeder slithering its way through life with delusions of grandeur. Now as for confiscating all of my precious crimson…well, let’s just continue to call him a “snake” before this really turns ugly.
