Gobbling up words—that’s why I was born…created…devised, perhaps? My origins are an anonymity even to myself.
I live in a mysterious attic filled with wondrous words, floating around the dust the way that invisible notes of a piano float through a concert hall. Marjorie was revealed to me one day when I saw a tiny toe pass through the darkness. I scrambled to slurp up all of the letters and numbers, punctuation marks and blank spaces I could before the owner of this delicious looking toe took them away from me.
I opened my mouth and inhaled.
Like a phenomenal whirlwind, words and parts of words came dancing into my mouth. And it wasn’t until I finished with the words and started nibbling on that delicious (albeit curious) toe, that Marjorie noticed me.
I am Tex.
I am keeper of the tales.
I am an eerie little creature and I prefer to stay that way. I will eat parts of you even if I love you. I will gnaw on parts of you if I am perturbed. Please do not take offense. As some would ask, “Were you raised in a barn?” Well, no. I was raised in an attic with nothing but alphabet letters and old feline skeletons to keep me company.
Do not feel sorry for me.
For I am Tex.
And I am keeper of the tales.
I hear a symphony when I read words. I see a painting when I watch the alphabet letters dance with the dust bunnies in front of my eyes.
If you must use my beloved letters on that white regurgitated wood, please make them count.
For each letter has a tale to tell, a life to live.
With slobbery toe nibbles and a tip of my bowler hat,