LIX. Puffy Huff

The little martian looks over at you .

He waggles his toes, jiggles the jangling beads on his wrist and lets out a puffy huff

“Could that sentence get any cuter? “ He asks with a grumpy scowl 

Lately, he’s been finding your writing too cutesy, a little too fluffy. 

You don’t help, by using words like fluffy and jiggling. 

“what's with all this sweety pie bullshit anyway?” he grounds out, grumbly, and mumbly. 

“You're doing it again! “ 

“geez, Louise. “

 “Jesus fucking Christ” he curses, in particular, un-nun-like fashion.

“What happened to brooding and mysterious? What happened to the intense biker writer? “ 

You shrug. 

“that shit gets older, the older you get” 

He rolls his eyes, puts his headphones back on and swings his head back and forth like a seasoned death metaller. 

The Little Martian sticks staunchly by his adolescent angst. 

I let him revel in it, and grow happy and old.