I am but a mere guinea pig. Being puffed up with pride is a feeling as foreign to me as the country whose name describes my species. It's hard to be confident with a cage mate like Nutmeg, who scoffs at my advances and whose daily goal is to put me in my place with a push of her nose and an aggressive rumble.
I have been living a lie. On Twitter.
I thought a pompous English accent would make me sound important. I thought I'd be flooded with followers who'd be impressed with my suavity, ingratiated by my debonairness. But I was caught out. By a human with a strange name: Auntnancis. My mistake? Writing in my public profile that I was born and bred in Canada. Now I find myself caught in a hamster wheel of lies. "My dear old Mum was from Cavy-Upon-Avon." I tweeted. "She ingrained me with perfect diction." Round and round I go ... but how do I get off?
I know what I have to do. But will I be brave enough to do it?
Thursday, September 3, 2009
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Chet - Has the mad woman driven you to this? I hear she has a hankering for the Yorkshire Dales and has dragged you into many a fantasy. She thinks she's a Brit raising her family in a cottage and helping the local vet. It's rubbed off on you. Probably no help for you now...
ReplyDeleteNancy Barnes - I had an inkling about the Yorkshire Dales thing - the repetitive playing of the jaunty All Creatures Great and Small theme tipped me off. As mad as she is, however, I cannot use it as an excuse for my despicable behaviour.
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