Being a calf

Buzzing cubes spewing hot air fit tightly in their windows. I often wonder what joy they find in acquiring more of these cubes with each passing year. I mean… what purpose could they possibly serve anyway, with the summers getting warmer every time the season hits us?

Then they like to be jailed. Fascinating! They construct the tallest of walls around their manicured residences and revel in their shadows. Very rarely do they venture out – and when they do – they zip out in these moaning boxes – which incidentally, also disgorge hot air!

Mum always warned me about the big ones – the big boxes roar and stop for no one – like dad when he’s in a fit of rage, mowing down anyone and everything that comes in the way. I guess I should’ve followed what she told me, because this pungence (in full colour) that has been dripping from my hip doesn’t really make me look as pretty.