If Flannels Could Speak

 

 

 

 

Hello there!

So Zeba is busy having a nervous breakdown over ONE lost hair band. Can you believe that girl? How is she going to live in that big city all alone if she can’t even keep simple things in place!
Prunk, Revy and Breen and I (Walter), Zeba’s four flannel friends seized this opportunity to tell you how we feel about her, I hope you enjoy our little conversation.

 

Revy (The Red Flannel Shirt)
I know I am her favorite. I just know it! Maybe it’s my bad boy charm that or my classic looks that attract her. But I wish she’d change her deodorant, it is really starting to get to me. Perhaps you could gift her one? I dunno man, I don’t you to think I am rude. She shouldn’t hang me out in the sun, I don’t want a tan. Umm I don’t really talk about my feelings, but I think I will share something today. I like her.

 

 

PRUNK (The purple and pink one)
My life hasn’t been as luxurious as the rest of my brothers, I have been tossed around,  warehouse to warehouse since the day I was born. I soon realised that I would never find true love — who would want to love someone born with a major defect? I was one of of the mass produced shirts to be exported, but as fate had it, I was born with an extra stitch in the middle. I still remember the day I was mercilessly thrown into the ‘rejected’ pile and shipped to the vendors market. The first time I set eyes on her, I fell in love. I could tell from the way she touched me, inspected my buttons that she was starting to feel something as well. But then, she discovered my flaw. The one extra stitch that has ruined my life. My heart skipped a beat, and I was sure that she would not love me. I don’t know what changed her mind, but she took me home despite knowing that I was deformed. We have been going out quite a lot recently, and I am going to travel to Vancouver with her soon. 
Breen (The Blue-Green Flannel)
I can’t sugar coat, so I am going to dive straight into the facts and present the raw truth to you.  I think that I am too cool for her. And I am not even her type. She complains a lot about me not fitting her right; apparently I am too tight her style. Umm excuse me; do you not realize how fat you are getting? Keep shoving down all those chocolate bars and maybe I will be free of your stench soon.
Although I do not like her attitude towards me, I have to admit she likes me a lot. I am the only green piece of clothing in her wardrobe, and I can tell that I am special. I hope I can like her someday.

 

And lastly, Walter (me)

I am her best friend, her lucky shirt. I am the first flannel she had,  and I have been around for at least 6 years. As you can tell, I am pretty old and withered, but she won’t let me retire. Maybe it’s the memories that I bear makes it so hard for her to let go. After all,  I am the one who accompanied her on her first successful robbery. She thinks that I make her cool, but the truth is, I am powerless. I am just a piece of covering. Maybe it’s the number of things we have accomplished together makes her confident when I am around. But as with all good things, our time together is nearing to its end. I have convinced her that it’s time to let me go. My stitches are getting weary, my colour has lost its vigour…I don’t know how long I will last. I think she has finally grown up, she isn’t taking me to Vancouver. I will miss her, but I think I will enjoy the silence of the closet more.