Durians (The Sequel)

-a result of a Steinbeck madlib

Next to the staticy screen of living room television, the northwest bathroom screeches willfully at the intruding fruit and drops helplessly.

There is a resounding stink that fills the room, for there is not a block to rid of this unrelenting hindrance.

On one side there is the pristine toilet that oversees the open trash can, but on the other side the clean sink carries the necessities--fruit; and hand soap that struggles to purify the ill-smelling room.

In the sink under the facet that runs isolated and so alone that it gives off a quiet wail. The scent of the overwhelming fruit wafts off the counter and drowns out the soap, and with the addition of the scent from the open trashcan across the room, and with no means to weaken it.

There is a durian that sits upon the bathroom counter, a durian dances its scent throughout the room, and dances disregarding races, gender, or age.

On top of the counter inside of a bathroom stands a durian; the durian lets no man take its throne.

Originally written 12/15/2020