Litter Bug

I just gave birth to a metaphor. 3 millisecond labour. Quicker than expected.

The metaphor started out in Kmart. There I was, walking around aimlessly like a lost llama in a penthouse. I have to admit that Kmart and I get along quite well. The frugal part of me smirks every time I attend and I think Kmart appreciates the way I slide around the corners like a Ferrari on a Grand Prix circuit.

Back to me and Kmart in the store. I looked at a cheap bowl. Then a cheeky set of cutlery. Followed by some garments of disputed quality.

Cup.

Yep, right in front of me there was a cup. Like a squirrel finding a nut on a beach? No. More like a man with a dog-level sense of smell finding a skunk in his skivy.

I can’t explain how I felt. It was a mixture of disappointment and disgust. Like a professional ballerina finding out her daughter does professional hip-hop but with the bounce and poise of a dead rat.

I just stared at this disposable coffee cup and I felt like it stared back.

“What’s up maaaaan? You got a problem!?”

You bet I do you grot of a cup. Who put you here? Who brought you up? Who trained you to be a piece of litter?

I’ll tell you who. A litter bug. Like a caterpillar crawling along a branch for three hours just to nibble the edge of a leaf. Someone crept around Kmart looking at things and then made a conscious decision to stretch out their arm and place you on a shelf where you never belonged.

It’s insect-ish. It’s viral. It’s the behaviour of a litter bug.

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