I’m not just an object, I have feelings too! ©
By Michael Casey
Morning 79, morning 87, morning 99, morning 110, morning all. It’s a bit nippy today, don’t you think? Yes, it’s really nippy today, all the ice and damp, it’s bad for my loft. My gutters are a bit blocked too, the rain just leaks down my brickwork, making me look so bad, it lingers too, encourages all that horrid moss, I just hate moss.
Look out it’s that crow again, I hope he does not land on me, nor me, nor me. Too late, he’s pooped on my brand new double glazing, I hope that cat in 49 eats the swine. Tell me do I look bad, just tell me straight, how bad do I look.
Terrible, like a Red Indian with war paint on, but not as bad as the Goth Girl from no 95, sniggered the other houses. It’s going to rain later on so you’ll soon be clean.
She needs to go on a diet, she’s so heavy on my flagstones, added the pavement. And when she walks in those high heels, she gives me a headache, it’s like having acupuncture, make me feel like a pin cushion. The houses raised their gutters in agreement.
Could be worse, you could be a lamppost, said the lamppost outside no 94, I have dogs to contend with. The lamppost wriggled his light in disgust, the things dogs did to lampposts, dogs had no shame at all. The houses fluttered their upstairs windows, it was their way of having a shiver down their spines.
Children ran by on their way to school, dropping litter as they ran, and spitting out chewing gum. The pavement began to cry, he was always being picked on, nobody had national anti-bullying week for pavements. He was spat on, and littered on, and peed on by dogs, and far worse when night descended. Then why did people wear heels, they just gave the pavement tummy ache. If only he could have some fancy new cobbles, like he had 100 years before.
So the day passed with the houses talking to each other while their owners were out for the day. Sometimes the hedges and the rosebushes joined in the conversation, but mainly they surfed, surfed the breeze. Hedges and rosebushes were just old Hippies, peace and love was all they thought about, must be all the roots they have.
The telephone wires tingled, as calls and internet went through their wires, they told the houses what messages were being passed. It would be boring just being a telephone line hanging in a street, but they could listen in and share the gossip with the houses. And why did number 95 always buy so much plant food, he never put it on his bush.
The sun faded in the western sky, the houses got excited, soon the owners would be coming home. Houses got lonely if their owners stayed out too long, people were company for houses. The streetlights started to come on, except outside no 84, there was a fault, so soon Hope Street was all lit up, except for a dark patch outside no 84. Kevin the lamppost was scared of dark, so he started humming to himself, it stopped him from being afraid.
Derek, that’s one of the owners not another lamppost, he saw Kevin humming, so he went up to him and kicked him. Kevin felt bruised, but then with a flicker his light came on. Derek was an electrician, so he knew where to kick, with a smile Derek went inside for his dinner, Kevin smiled too. Kevin would stand sentry all night long, but he did not mind, his light was on now.