If I started to keep track of the number of times a week I ask him whether he’d like to use me, I may well discover that I am not applying my vocabulary to its full potential.
Besides the fact that it turns me on just to utter those words, I also like him to know (as often as possible
) that I am available (even if he doesn’t need to be told to know) for anything he may desire.
Does all my jabber annoy him?
No. I suppose to him it looks like a part of my debasement.
You know what annoys him?
When I say (at midnight), “I am exhausted, can I go to bed instead?”
Why does this annoy him?
Objects aren’t capable of exhaustion or revocation of consent.
What do you do with property that can no longer be of use to you?
Apparently, you discard it.
But how, you may ask do you throw away property that is shaped (and functions) like a (very real) human being?
Just like you would any trash.
You put it into (three giant, slightly *holey*) garbage bags (throw in some trash for good measure), drag it to the balcony and leave it there for the garbage man to pick up the following morning.
Does he really, honestly leave it out there all night (in the fucking cold)?
Even when the cat tries to get into the trash.
Even when the unrelenting odour of old, stale cigarettes make it want to throw up (and quit smoking).
And how the fuck does it finally explain this to the garbage man (and its neighbor should she walk out)?
Age old excuse, “Just playing a prank to make y’all laugh”
Which the garbage man did not seem to buy, but at least his daughter laughed (while it held back tears, it seems plausible that objects don’t cry either).
Does it get chastised for not insisting it be taken to the dumpster like the rest of the trash?
Oh yes, the function of trash is not to make little girls laugh.
Does it ever refuse to do what it is told again?
Nope, objects don’t have the ability to refuse to deliver.
(..just homicidal thoughts every once in a while, after all, Chucky was really an object too.)