Keep a respectful distance, dear reader. You are looking upon the world's greatest bluffer.
Oh, Charles. How many pennies have I paid for your thoughts, yet still I am none the wiser? I'm no closer to understanding when you plan to molt than I am to figuring out how to jump start my metabolism using nothing more than a piece of copper wire and a pan of lemon bars!
Anyway, he did it! Charles Portis molted!
No thanks to me, mind you. In typical fashion, I second guessed myself at the last minute and tried to feed him a housefly, very nearly bungling the entire process.
Caroline and I came home in time to catch the tail end of the affair. It was pretty much the highlight of our day.
Coincidentally, this morning I was hanging out with Izzy as she ate breakfast, and we came up with this brilliant idea for a horror movie entitled, The Molt...(well, brilliant for 5:30 in the morning).
It's about this girl who goes into her room to check if her praying mantis has molted yet, only to find everything in total disarray: dresser drawers pulled out and ransacked, bed torn apart, clothing strewn everywhere.
Cue terrifying music...
She looks around and notices the little plastic cup she left the mantis in is mangled on the floor like an old banana peel. She stoops and picks it up. The expression on her face is one step behind what the audience already fears: hey, that's weird...it would take something MUCH BIGGER than a regular praying mantis to destroy this cup...
At this point the camera switches to an angle behind her shoulder and she slowly turns around in this horrible moment of understanding...
HER MANTIS HAS MOLTED TO THE SIZE OF A WOOLY MAMMOTH!!!
And he's hovering over her, fixing her with that cold, inscrutable stare which says: Nothing personal, but I'm about to eat you, starting at your ankles.
Fortunately, the girl has her wits about her. She knows a praying mantis will only eat moving prey, so she freezes on the spot, staring death in the face. But at that moment the family dog wanders into her room, a small, yappy, bit of fluff. Cue the girl's Oscar winning moment: agony contorting her features (which must remain rigid or she dies). "Skipper!," she whispers, "Stay, boy! Stay!"
But Skipper does not stay.
That's as far as we got before Izzy had to leave for school, sorry to leave you with another cliffhanger...
At any rate, hopefully what they say about life imitating art is all stuff and nonsense, as you can see for yourself the new and improved Charles Portis. To give you a sense of scale: yes, that is a wooly mammoth in the background, though not as far as one might hope...
Cue terrifying music...
Dear reader, I need to take a little break from Tollipop. I feel so stupidly self important for always saying that. It's not like I'm doing anything new or exciting, unless you count the quotidien as exciting (which I do). It's just that there's a lot of quotidien to keep up with these days.
Wishing for something lovely to cross your path in the meantime...xo.