I've held something in my heart for too long and I will relate a story to you, but I have to ask you some questions first. Do you remember how you can wish on a shooting star? Do you remember how you can throw coins into a fountain? Do you remember how you can place coins on a statue pedestal? Do you remember how you can tip your hat to the sun, but only when the moon is up too and you happen to be wearing one? Do you remember how, if you snatch a propeller seed out of the air, you get one if you toss it at someone and it touches them on the way down? Do you remember how snatching a ball of fuzz out of the air was very important?
I do not pee in jars anymore. I do not cut whole chickens into pieces in a very specific way beyond the call of duty or hunger. I do not make sure I have a mirror inside my right front pocket at all times because I need to break it at a very specific and occasional time that shows its face. I do not rub cum behind my ears when I am going to a job interview. I still do not hit roadkill if it is already dead. I do not whisper to stones and then bury them when people are watching. I do not keep an even amount of pennies in my apartment at all times. I do not hold on to an odd number of scars at all times. I do not touch my shoulder to the right side of each door's jamb passed through when I visit a new house.
There was a wishmaster that grew in my backyard, in Maryland. At the time, I was snatching the little fuzzies out of the air with abandon, then. I did not know where they came from, but each spring they were everywhere and I saw them rarely on Staten Island. When I was mowing there was a plant the mower could not chop down, in Maryland. I passed it off as work for later. The fuzzies were very numerous and I started a game of catching them between spells of flying paper aeroplanes and shooting them down with a water canon that used the constant pressure system so that every shot taken would have maximum distance on it regardless of how much water was in the tank.
I grew very concerned. The next week. It was not time to mow the lawn. The fuzzies were still catching wind and they were. Grabbing balls of flakes of chips of feathers. I sent many wishes. Back then. I walked around the house. Looking for grass to cut. The plant was ten times its previous size. Entirely vertical. Opened. Throwing feathers into the wind. My first time facing a wishmaster. It was generating wishes. Creating them. I was terrified. Too terrified. Weeks bled into months. I went out every day. To look at it. Not daring to touch. Afraid to cut down. What if you cut it down wrong? What if it grows back? What happens to everyone else's wishes?
What if you eat the fuzzy instead of opening your hand? Blowing it away. What if someone else cuts it down? What if it saw me? What if it remembered that I ran the mower over it? It died. On its own. Turned grayish brown. Fell over. Taken from my hands. There are more. There are more. They are horrible. Do not destroy them all. Do not allow them to grow on your own land. Take your chances. Cut them before they begin casting. Open ended wishes. My recommendation. The only way. After the wishmaster fell over. I burned it. To be sure.
