A donkey. You'd never believe it by the way that it looked at me. Vicous, understanding, benevolent. Its head was half-hidden by a pole. The pole turned green with envy, purple with royalty. How was this possible? A vicious, understanding, benevolent donkey? Head half-hidden by a pole? I wanted to see the half-hidden head. I wanted to be near it, stepping closer.
The pole stopped me. It was red. Anger poured from its concrete base and at its top flew the Jolly Roger. It threatened my curiosity with rageful piracy. I knew very well how cats die.
I sidestepped to left, but the keen, unwavering gaze of the vicious, understanding, benevolent donkey alerted the pole. The Jolly Roger turned to face me once more.
My mind strained beneath the tension, between my burning curiosity and fear of the pole; fear of the raging flag. Which way could I turn? What path was open to me? I must see the half-hidden head!I must gaze upon that which taunts me with its half-hiddenness! But I cannot! I am stalled! I am held hostage! I am BOUND and ANGRY and TREMBLING with STILLNESS. Rising frustration boils about my brain and my mind... is slowly... maddening...
I can feel my whole being twist in on itself.
One final moment of indescribable insanity and... POP!
In a peculiar paradox my descent into madness, from madness, has reversed itself. I take my red pen. I put it to the page. And I continue with my marking.