Pillow Talk

Sure, laugh all you want. I get abused on the regular, slobbered and perspired on and am sometimes used as a Kleenex, but let’s get this straight: I know more secrets than any of you. With you, I’ve laughed at the best of times and cried at the worst of times. I’ve experienced everything you have, while in bed. In fact, some may have experienced more intimacy with me than with any other humans. Take that how you want, but I know everything. I catch your tears when your boyfriend, or girlfriend, gives you the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” routine. When you have a cold, and you’re too lazy to wipe your nose with a Kleenex, I take it. I mean, we still need to solve the drool and perspiration damages, but that could be easily fixed with a light weight soft vinyl pillow case. It helps you and it helps me. Just sayin’ guys. You see I’ve been switched around from room to room. Yes, I’m that ol’ faithful pillow that you can run to when that new pillow you bought just isn’t the same. Right?

Early Saturday morning, my previous owner, whom I now resent, laid upon me as she read the weekend flyers. Now, the whole morning comes as a blur to me, but from what I remember I heard “Walmart”, “sale” and “pillow” all in the same sentence. This can’t be good. I knew what was coming. Quietly, I began to weep. I turned to my fellow pillow next to me. I tried to break the news to him, but he didn’t want to hear it. It was too much of a heartbreak, for both of us.

Five years together, and this is how you repay me? I screamed at my owner. I obviously didn’t scream loud enough because she proceeded to carry me out of her room without hesitation. And that’s when I heard it. “It’s not you, it’s me”, she pleaded as she stuffed me into the linen closet. I was in disbelief. Was this really happening? Oh no you didn’t girlfriend. Did she really just attempt to pull that routine on me? It seemed that I had heard that line a million times before, but never to me. How could she? I was so used to comforting those who had just been dumped. But here I was, officially dumped. For ten weeks I was left alone in the closet. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t until I heard my owner’s voice approaching the linen closet one night. Ah ha! I knew she would come back, they always do. The closet door opened. Light. I was home again. She grabbed me roughly and threw me into the hands of a much younger, greasier version of her. Wait, this couldn’t be…her daughter? I heard voices downstairs and the young girl ran to the direction of the voices. Once again, what happened next was a blur. From what I remember I had been whipped around, hit, punched, kicked and thrown into the hands of the childish voices. And then it happened. I felt it. A bang. I WAS SHOT! I felt around for a wound, then realized I had split open into two. Feathers began to fall out. I had been brutally assaulted. What I was once was, I was no longer.