The heat from the presses has cooled since my birth. And I’m ready for the baggie treatment. Roll around and around and around. And stop. Too dizzy to stop the man from stuffing me in the baggie and cutting off the air supply.
It’s getting hot again. I can feel it. Stifling. But I’m powerless to do anything now. My wings have been bound, wrapped round one another. Bagged….AARRGGHH!!!
Finally the man shoves me in a box. It’s cooler now, but I’m feeling claustrophobic. No room to maneuver. Like a coffin.
How much longer must I wait? Will I wilt into nothing, left in this box forever? God, grant me one final wish. Let me be remembered as a good addition…uh, sorry, edition.