Everyday Yeah one-thousand two-hundred and twenty-five

The biscuits were blooming. Yeah took a breath once and chocked on the biscuit nectar. It was the only thing he ever did with biscuits. Sometimes he thought he wasn’t sure if he was breathing. Once I thought I was a sword. Yeah took me and stabbed his brother in the eye. Yeah’s brother bled all over my mother’s sofa. She asked who bled on her sofa. I said, “It was Yeah’s brother ‘Munch Thunder Flume.’” This made my mother angry and she told me to sell my baseball cards to pay for a new sofa. A few days later Yeah came home from computer technician camp. He said, “Your shirt has a sword on it. Did you buy it from the cotton man? Why is it all bloody? I heard my brother gouged his eyeball out. I didn’t even know I had a brother, but I guess he lives behind the sofa. Who knew? Sometimes I pretend I live behind the sofa, but I don’t have the courage to actually do it.” A month later I moved into a building with a blind doorman. He sort of could see with one of his eyes, but only when he wore his monocle and he never wore his monocle. Sometimes we’d talk about my mother’s sofa. Other times I would stand next to him for hours thinking he didn’t know I was there, but every time he would always turn and poke me right on the left eyebrow and say, “Biscuits.”