Point of View exercise

[Woody]

15 minute exercise - 5 minutes to note different aspects (not required in any post), 10 minutes to write your text (required in post).
Scene - table with blue and white checked, gingham table cloth, full English breakfast on plate, no people around. Sorry - meant to say not from a person PoV. Which is sort of what it says in the line below.
Exercise - write for 10 minutes from the PoV of any element in the scene.

[leatherdykeuk]

What is the point?

I mean, I listened to all that stuff about everything having a spirit and when something dies their spirit goes back into a big bucket of spirits. I even believed them when they told me inanimate objects had a spirit too.

I wish I hadn’t.

If I hadn’t listened to all that guff I might not have believed it. I might not have come back as a pig. I might not now be a sausage growing steadily cold, my fat congealing inside my shin in a thin stream of white striations.

Look at the grease on the plate. ‘Full English Breakfast’ they call it. Sausages (Of which I’m two – keep your schizophrenia jokes to yourself, please), bacon (thankfully silent), eggs (thin reedy voices looking for their mothers), tomatoes, mushrooms (both of whose spirits are thankfully silent) and a black pudding that shouts incessantly about religion. I mean. Why?

My question is, when (if) I’m eaten, do I go to the big bucket immediately, or do I become part of the spirit of the consumer. “You are what you eat” my mother used to say (when I had a mother). I wonder if that was true.

[Woody]

nice one leatherdykeuk.     I'm aiming to post my bash at the exercise tonight. Didn't think anyone would give it a go.

[Woody]

“Here we go again. What d’you reckon we’re doin’ today, knife?”
………
“Oi – knife, can you hear me?”
“What’s that, fork? Got a fat plate in the way. Speak up will yer.”
“Oo. Something’s grabbed hold of my left foot — I’m levitating. I can hear it all now knife – sounds like the food’s trying to make a break for it.”
“Hey, fork, I’m flying too. Look at me – whoo, hoo. What’s that on your head?”
“Dunno. But it’s leaking stuff all over me – thought I heard it scream too.”
“Ahhh! I’m coming to join you — no I’m not. You’re going up. You’re going into a big black hole in the pink mountain.”
“I don’t like this, knife. I don’t like caves. I get claustrophobia.”
“Close your eyes — it’s meant to help.”
“I would if I could, but I don’t have any.”
“Sorry fork, forgot you were blind. One of the paradoxes of a difficult birth I suppose. Try holding your breath.”
“Thanks for the tip, knife — bye. ………… I’m back. I think. Hello again, knife, can you see me?”
“Yeah! Isn’t this great?”
“Where am I going now, knife?”
“I think you’re about to harpoon the sausage. Bet it can’t go as fast as you can.”
“Oww. It’s hot. Kill it, knife. Stop it burning me.”
“Anything for you mate. Woo, woo. Here’s knifey little sausage. You’re ass is mine. Haaa.”

[leatherdykeuk]

Nice take, Woody - it went rather well with mine, too. Nasty Knife!

[Woody]

mustn't have my stuff here, ed keeps it.

[leatherdykeuk]

I'm a bit new to the forum, Woody - still finding my feet as yet.