A Golden Swirly

They lived in a crystal kingdom. Blue-green pebbles adorned the floor, and they lived happily with only each other for company. Blowing bubbles, making faces in the mirrors, they drifted. Food floated down from the heavens every day like manna, burnt-orange flakes that complimented their clothing. Often dinner happened three or four times a day. They feasted well and frequently. Waistcoats grew tight, golden buttons strained. Certain that it was merely their skin shrinking, they continued to eat. They admired each others round little tummies, chortling at the other’s waistline. They were enormously happy, even though moving grew difficult.

They started to spend more of their time observing, rather than the old days when they chased each other about the house. Time slowed. Days grew long. The furniture grew dusty around them. Then, in an instant, it happened. Indigestion, stomach cramps, and all the memories of food came swarming down around them. They had eaten far too gloriously much. Observing this complacently, they blew their last bubbles. One hurried goodbye and they were gone. Tiny mouths gaped. There they floated, tawny bellies in the air. At last, someone with a touch of decency poured out their home into a porcelain bowl… and flushed. With a double explosion of yellow gold, they took their last trip together. Around they went, like a ride at the fair. Nothing left to their memory, their last thought of a golden swirly.