Korridorium

♫ Sage in a Gilded Cage ♫

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I enter the cor­ri­dor of the doll­house to make my way to the kitchen. The uten­sils there are com­i­cally over­sized, but I don’t want to com­pletely aban­don civil­ity. Rather than shov­el­ing my food into my mouth, I pre­pare it to the best of my abil­ity. If I already look like an unciv­i­lized for­est dweller, I want to main­tain at least some dig­nity inter­nally and in my daily actions.

Because ever since my cour­te­san bewitched me with a voodoo spell and shrunk me to the size of a thumb, I am com­pletely at the mercy of her ado­les­cent daugh­ter. She sees me as a toy and, for her amuse­ment, forces me to per­form all kinds of tricks. Although I unroll the poster I painted with the word “Hunger” almost daily and let it hang from the bed­room over the par­tially open entrance hall, she only occa­sion­ally thinks about putting a let­tuce leaf or a slice of fruit in the vestibule for me.

Worse than the daugh­ter though is the mother, who some­times secretly takes me at night and lies with me in bed. Despite her grotesque gigan­tism, it almost feels like before, except now she forces me to crawl over her naked body and pluck out all the unwanted hairs sprout­ing from it. For me, it means labo­ri­ous foot marches and hard work. It’s even more humil­i­at­ing as she’s using me to make her more desir­able for her new lover, while for me, no knife is sharp enough to shave or even trim the now mat­ted mane that reaches down to my knees.