If Tuesday had been a person she would have liked ice cream. To slurp on them and all the while carry on with her day.
Had Tuesday been a job she would have liked those employees that didnt take into account all the hours needed. Those who underestimated.
If she was a fly she would have sat on the walls in the sweaty mellow air of a bathroom in a brothel to observe the fleeings of life taking place. So long as she wouldnt get bored of it. Soon she might and then flight would take place to a whole other world. The one just outside the brothel walls. Out she would, fly at the crack of a window.
Tuesday roamed over the seas below. Seas of worlds and seas of creatures.
One day she saw a black little box with a universe in. She flew down and sat on it. Looking at it. Then she pooped.
Fortunately Tuesday was not such a naughty fly.
Tuesday was Tuesday. A wanton day of the week. Laying about in its finest creak.
Was Tuesday really so. Or was Tuesday really there? A day, a year, a month? Tuesday barely had a say. She so thought it was a walk of change.
Once she saw a couple in her hallway having sex. She didnt understand why they did. The girls eyes seemed dull and the mans dick much too big for her. Yet somehow she took it and had soulless eyes, waiting for something.
Tuesday didnt like the look of most of it. She mostly stared in amusement because she liked how they wanted her to look.
Tuesday sometimes wondered if there ever would be a normal person born. Seems it couldnt be.
Sometimes men wandered up the hallway and asked her if she too wanted to try a pie filling they had to offer. She was not in the mood for pie filling much so she declined. Usually this would sadden them and they would walk away ashamed of their to her delight inferior offer. Had it been a great offer she might have taken it, but if it was a pie filling the delivery man should be delicious she thought.
Else the pie would taste the colour Boring. And Tuesday had no say in such wantings. She liked herself and her taste.