You’ve returned with a quantum eraser, a strange muddy mess of particles, a subatomic demagnetizer. You rub it against my mouth.
“That should shut you up for a while,” you wink a ruthless grin.
I find a crayon and draw a mouth as fast as possible before I suffocate.
“эюЯᴔЂᴟбЪ!” comes out of the new orifice. I’ve drawn it sideways or skewed somehow.
You rub your eraser to my face. But I keep drawing new mouths as frantically as I can.
I’ve got a half dozen holes in my head, all babbling chaos at you, before you regroup and erase my hands.
~Jettison, MEOWING ON THE ANSWERING MACHINE