Topsy Turvy

I talked to Otis Burble the other day. He was awake for once, although I think most of the time he just appears to be asleep. I asked him what our world looked like from his world - perched on the wall. He sniffed, blinked then looked me in the eye as if I was stupid. I did eventually get him to talk to me sensibly, after offering him some of my chocolate. He doesn't eat; he doesn't do much for that matter, but he's a wise old owl, so he knows to appreciate what should be appreciated. My sacrificing chocolate for the sake of our friendship is definitely to be appreciated at a very deep level. Anyway, this is what he said:

"When I am rudely awakened by the monstrosity that you call laughter, I drag my old eyes open to a dismal world that is often dark and grey because you haven't bothered to turn the light on yet. That object in the corner radiates insulting colours of light (he means the teli) and blares out obscenities I do not understand. Besides the mess that you call a living room (it's not that bad, he's really exaggerating!), the only good things are the somewhat witty and partially wise quotes on your wall, and my friends next door - though they all look the same and have now flown away forever, I don't blame them (he's talking about our owl bunting that have now returned home with their rightful owner). And then there's you, who call yourselves human. Do you not see how weird you humans are, with your spotty clothes and weird shoes and those big sheets that you sometimes use as skirts and sometimes as camouflage to hide yourselves? Who are you hiding from? And why do you sometimes jump around your world and sing songs that have no relevance to the world? Your faces confuse me and your movement makes me dizzy."

He fell asleep after he'd said that. Well, he closed his eyes. I am yet to find out why he thinks that it is against all normality to live like we do. Hopefully it won't be long before he's awake again.