Pitfall Humor

I am a Carpenter

I make chairs

I am a carpenter. I chainsaw the bundles of wood just in case they become large enough to suffocate me in their presence. The way grown-up children kick their parents out. I used to chop down and arrange them into stacks but I am very weak now. In the midst of all these problems that I’ve and will certainly face in the days to come, I feel quite solitude in my workshop. The way parents feel after their children are out.

I’d always wanted to be a creator to the point I’d feel content after I’d look down in my commode — a hard day’s labour. But my resume isn’t limited till here, I also delight in cutting my nails and gathering them to increase their effect. I also plant them into the soil, as it is protein-rich. In winters, when chilblains make my skin dry and gloomy, I feel an unusual sense of joy in peeling it out. The way teenagers pop their pimples.

Though I create utility-based items from the wood I’ve, I sometimes find myself in the wood to decide what I shall create. For none buys and needs what I create. I’ve no money to buy men to advocate for my work’s quality. Writers die, alone on their desks — so does many other artists but I am no artist. I am a wood player, nothing more than that.