Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s QueerBlogWed, not that I’m around for it. Peter and Unwilling to Be Yours are, picking up right where they left off on Monday…


First, the chicken fell with a huge, clattering bang which dented its beak.

Ahem, let me explain.

The Navel did its best to live up to its title of being the center of all things bizarre. Not all of its items were strange, in and of themselves. You could find exquisitely painted decks of tarot cards, illustrated books, a variety of crystals, candles, and an assortment of tea.

None of these struck me as being bizarre. Perhaps they were here because of occult associations. Anything which might be considered magic was thrown in with the weird, which was a truly weird attitude. At least to me.

Other items lived up to the reputation of being bizarre. Some of the weirdest were what appeared to be religious icons.

I recognize none of them, although I did recognize the penitent and proud stature these ceramics, statues, pictures, and metal statues were frozen within. Recognition ended with the posture.

Many of these icons weren’t human, at least no completely. Some of them were of, well, I can only describe them as part chicken.


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