Brian: What are you thinking about?
David: Oh, you know. Life. Death. The Universe. Cottage cheese. That kind of stuff, y’know.
B: Cottage cheese?
D: Yeah- well, mostly – I mean, why’s it called cottage cheese? Is it made from the crushed-up remains of cottages?
B: Looks like it.
D: Or, do they milk the cottage and then turn it into cheese?
B: Don’t be ridiculous.
D: I’m not! What about that story about the cottage in the woods that had chicken-legs so if a stranger came near it could spin around to stop the stranger finding the door? If a cottage has legs, maybe it has other bodily functions.
B: Chicken – legs…You can’t milk a chicken.
D: Maybe they cull the cottages, then. Yes, I can see it now – a cottage on little legs running through the trees, trying to escape the hunt, its hay-hair flapping in the breeze…
B: You’ve forgotten to take your tablets again, haven’t you?
In April 2013, a short story I have written, called “Tides,” will appear in Poetic Diversity, the litzine of Los Angeles. It is very funny. Also, it contains aliens, but not as we know them…