Lwoyoblrig Bughum

I am Lwoyoblrig Bughum. There’s nothing I can write you haven’t read before. Therefore, for the sake of redundancy, let me repeat. I am a girl of almost twenty-three. I believe in the innate goodness of animals. Once upon a time I put to fire, an entire bee hive. The scenario ended gloriously, with the tree burnt to ground. I kill mosquitoes too – hordes of them. I have a quaintly effective technique which makes me decisively lethal. They sing of me in hushed hums. They sing:

“There’s a girl, there’s a girl
Without ringlets or a curl
A killing, mauling killer girl!

And she lives!
Friends, she lives!”

When the sun sets I become a boy. A fair-skinned, sumptuously haired, nation loving boy. I wear things, apt to wear. I drink beverages, apt to drink. I ogle girls, apt to ogle. I hate men, who hate the men I love. I love the men I love inordinately. I kill the men who hate the men I love. I hate women. I love my mother. You can always find me singing the song, ‘I Love My Mother.’ A great song by a fellow-man who loved his mother.

I am an owl by night. I seize upon innocence with my righteous claws. I am the reason infants cry. I am the emblem of unadulterated peace and necessary mutiny. Though I don’t think I can carry on my vigil at nights. My nose has ashamed me and my patrons. It fell in love with a cat. A singing cat.

“I am a cat and I can’t roar
Nor can hiss, nor can howl
Nor can screech, like a boar
Or talk gibberish like an owl!”

By morning, I am again an idealist.


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