Letter from a Gall-Bladder
When my house was being built 46 years ago, it was clear that one room in it would be mine. And the house expanded, and there were build-ons,then parts were razed, as it happens in 45 years. At some point this became too boring and I decided I need a hobby. I wanted to become a sculptor. But some basic material was needed for that: some nice stones. All attempts to have some delivered from brother kidney failed and thus I decided to grow my own. A couple stalactites should do. It took me some years, but with some cholesterol and bodily fluids they were just growing fine, until I could become the sculptor I was born to be.
All of this, I could do in perfect secrecy, without my homeowner noticing anything. Approximately 7 years ago, then a curious woman in scrubs wearing ugly glasses detected me and gave away my secret, yes blabbed it out for the entire world to know. This is when I got my first eviction notice. But my homeowner did not feel like it, and thus she decided to let me carry on, as long as I did not bother her.
Last year, between Christmas and New Years, the grease from Turkey, Rouladen and Potato Salad delivered that final material and my dreams were fulfilled: I could begin sculpting. So I took my hammer and chisel and got started. Unfortunately, this rocked the entire house, and I had to wait for the quakes to subside and the walls of my room to stop shaking. When they did, they were not as straight as they used to.
And thus, my homeowner returned to another scrub-wearer who once again was issuing an eviction notice. But yet again, my homeowner did not want to listen and so I continued to work hard. Regretfully, I proceeded to dig my own grave, because now, she agreed to the eviction. Even my influenza-friends, whom I begged for help, only got me a one-week reprieve and therefore on 5 March the wrecking ball came, tore open the outside of the building in four spots, large lamps illuminated my dark cave and the eviction crew removed my 5 unfinished sculptures and the Kiwi-colored dove egg together with my walls. After that, I lost my consciousness.
Now, with my last breath and before ascending to gallbladder heaven, I wish that a good team of masons will repair the damage on the house, plaster and paper the walls again.
Bye Bye, old house.