“life is a wretched abyss,” says bee-o the bee. “what is the point of living when constantly confronted with sticky hands and an even stickier face? and always, always with the screams.” bee-o the bee could not always tell if it was she that was screaming, or himself.
“my existence is an affront to god,” thought bee-o the bee. “my concept of self plagues my mind incessantly.”
tig-o the tiger had a quiet rage like a fire that could never be quenched, but over the years it melted and fermented into something almost like acceptance.
shark-o the shark thought of the sea, and of waves breaking over rocks. he pondered the fate of his family, blood in the waves, someone’s soup.
“this could be worse,” thought shark-o the shark.
it could always,” thought shark-o the shark, “be worse”
“these hands are useless,” said shark-o the shark, clenching his tiny fingers together, “but legs…this feels like the kind of freedom i’ve always dreamed of.”
but shark-o the shark would not get very far.
frog-o the frog did not think of much
it was better, to not think of much
bird-o the bird gave no impression of what he was thinking. perhaps if no one guessed his plan, it would be easier to get away with it.
in spite of it all, bird-o the bird had found a friend; you could even say, a partner in crime. and she, who was bird-o’s friend, was even wickeder than he.
author's note: since i found these amazon listings and wrote this in 2015, the clump-o-lump toy line has been discontinued. farewell, clump-o-lump.