femdom

There used to be this toy, "Silly Puddy" that came to me in a plastic shell shaped like an egg.

You could take it out and place it against the written word and make an image

Or squeeze it tight

like a thigh and make a man (a mistaken one) with a slim waistline and a flat, military belly. Or

you could pull the arms of the man you made for mile and then some, to other rooms of the flat

your parents were renting, allow his fat

fingers the room to mistrust; to point out danger from afar. To organize the dead in rows of carnage.

Or you could fashion a perfect girl

with scribbles for hair and a perfect, blown out afro. After lunch she would saunter with her basket of

air sandwiches and mud drink

and under the baking sun, call on Christ to give her a child. And "Silly Putty" me could give her that child and

they were all suspended in air and in the horrors of their clay village

where they toiled and worked for 'the man', (made of clay himself), who thought himself important, but who understood

clay people wrongly

and who would say mean and hurtful things, until those clay people, who could lay themselves against the world

and give off light

found pitchforks in the tall hay they had gathered,

and learned to fight.

Reviews

[Grumpie]

I loved silly puddy as a child. I forgot it could pick up pencil marks! With that stark imagery behind the scene and story you are casting, I feel eerie. Thinking of puddy faces in a desolate clay town, contorted and dare I say soulless- I'm sitting outside in the dark which isn't helping... then the spark of inspiration and defiance swoops in to relieve my fear. This is very beautiful. I reread it a few times trying to pick out all the different layers. You say so much with so little, thank you for this insight tonight.

[h d e rushin]

thank you brother. I'm still alive. Barely. But I still call earth my home. And still listening to your voice. dana.

[Grumpie]

I'm thankful for that. Stay strong friend

[Ms claws]

Yeah! And the colored comics in the Sunday newspaper! It was like magic! Thanks Grumpie

[Neha agrawal]

Before giving the review I needed to search what "silly puddy" is ? 😊 because in india I never saw one and never heard this name before in my life. But the way you weave childhood innocence with harsh realities is amazing.

[h d e rushin]

it was a very popular toy that had it's own very popular commercial. It was a type of clay that came packaged in a plastic egg, that you could stretch, roll into a ball, bounce against the wall, and when you tired of that, place against a printed text and copy it. It was quite fabulous. But thanks for your kind words/ dana

[Ms claws]

I remember when Silly Putty hit the market. Of course, we couldn't afford such luxuries but I had friends who could. My imagination couldn't get past my step father saying, "Don't get your hopes up."
He could afford his Pepsi but would give my sister and me the dregs to divide between us once a month.
My mom did work her a*s off to get me an Easy Bake oven one Christmas but we couldn't afford the food to cook in it so it was like a dream that never came true.

[h d e rushin]

My goodness! "Hasbro sold 16 million Easy
Bake Ovens. But the lightbulb that heated the oven burned thousands of kids along the way to happiness. Toys were better then, I think. Thanks for reminding me.

[Ms claws]

My pleasure and thank you!

[Ms claws]

Mom said my EB came from consignment so that's probably why I never got a chance to use it.

[h d e rushin]

There's no shame in consignment. None at all.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

So so good to read you again...
And I relate to this in a couple ways...I like the nostalgia...reminded me of being a little kid, but also how we can mold memories of that childhood, shape them as we want...sometimes veering off from the truth.
I loved playing with silly putty....creating things from my imagination.
I also loved Play-Dough...never made anything with that, just sat there and smelled it.

But yes...with the putty we could make what we want, pretend to be who we wanted to be.
Our own little world...
and then we grew up.
Life is no longer pretend...but recently I met a kid playing with Play-Dough...and I smelled it...still that great smell.
j.