Movers and Shakers

The experiment started at a Christmas party last June. After moving around so much for my whole life I decided to not. I made this decision without any forethought and plopped my buttocks down in the middle of my neighbor's couch and that was that. Parties are interesting when they are happening all around you. My eyes picked up all the laughs, some frowns, the awkward body language, the group love. My nose was less fortunate with it's sensing. The party ended late. After two AM, but I couldn't see the rest of the clock from where I was seated. I remained seated even after the lights went out and everyone had gone. It's March now, and this couch has become my pedestal, atop which I gaze upon my subjects. The rug, the walls, the dust, the cushions, the TV, the ceiling, the lights. All loyal to me throughout. They paid service to me in sights and sounds, keeping my senses busy in my new motionless life.   We had a scenic kingdom together without animation. It was good.

I would have stayed there much longer if it wasn't for Hurricane Ferdinand. It was states away, but hearing about a hurricane every day on TV made me think it was my fault. The Earth was balancing out my stillness by pushing wind around wildly. The world wasn't used to having people not walk on it. Apparently, people were supposed to move. So I got up and left my people. There was no uproar, but I could tell they would miss me. If you could tell such a thing, I certainly could.

I was going to walk. Do that walking thing; kick my shoes across the country, but people walk all the time and that's stupid. Walking is possibly the least enjoyable and definitely the most annoying thing a human can do. I had to brainstorm a while. I resigned myself to a walker for the time being. I would climb a tree but I didn't want the monkeys to resent me. Spent some time in a pond, but I didn't want to become water myself. I was a door for a while. Life was good. Finally I landed on my destiny. I was sitting on top of my brother's house, pretending to be a satellite dish, when I saw a shooting star. That would be nice, to be a star. So I did. I stowed away in a space shuttle. It was surprisingly easy. There aren't really people trying to stop you going to space, so I just walked on. They handed me a suit, and with my three co-pilots we left our planet. They had different intentions than I, but we were all spacemen together. The time came for a space walk and I did what I do best. I stepped into the airlock without a suit and haphazardly ejected myself into the cold black of eternity. I regret it sometimes. Being a star. Don't get me wrong, it's the best decision I ever made, but I miss my neighbor's room. I find myself wondering if the lamp is thinking about me, as I think of her. I hope she doesn't mind I'm making natural light now. I pushed the thought out of my mind and went back to my new lifestyle. Let's see the Earth balance this out.