Today's Dictionary.com Word of the Day is exigent!

The only people who would think that is funny don't need any explanation anyway, so I won't bother. ;)

Just trust me, if I had to explain it, it wouldn't be funny any more. :D






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A Story about Pink Fluffies

Call me Fluffy.

I am a packing pallet, and proud of it. It is a high, if not lonely, calling. Just because there are thousands of us doesn't mean we're not each special. And just because we can't communicate in the confines of your vocal world, doesn't mean we don't have feelings too.

This box I live in is not a cage. I do not consider it a prison from the world outside. Rather, it is my vessel -- a portal to higher experiences than the factory where I was first created.

I am a light blue fluffy in a box of light blue fluffies. Our mission, where I lie now, is to pad Something wrapped in brown paper. We have been traveling via postal mail for a few days now.

I hear one of my fluffy friends next to me speak up.

"Say, Fluffy, what *do* you figure we're padding? I mean, it's not very heavy."

"Can't say for sure, Fluffo. Do you... do you get the feeling it's rather soft? I almost suppose it doesn't need us."

"I know. What if... what if it's a stack of papers? Or a pillow? Wouldn't that be funny?"

"Only if you think it's funny that we are padding something that doesn't *need* us."

I interrupt the narrative to ask your pardon for my cynicism. In a world where discarded newspapers are vying for your job, you can't luxuriate in a lot of self esteem.

There was a thump, a terrible slicing sound, and suddenly there was light. I could feel a lot of shifting and suddenly, we fluffies were alone in our box, open, and above I could see a middle-aged man holding the Something.

Fluffo trembled next to me.

"Here it is! Our first packing job -- I wonder if we packed it well enough!"

The man nonchalantly tore off the brown paper, and inside was a long row of personalized styrofoam cups.

Fluffo gasped, as only fluffies can. "Styrofoam? We were packing *Styrofoam?*"

The irony of the situation was less than amusing, that is until we had some guests. We were dumped into a larger box and into this was also dumped other packing fluffies as well as a few sheets of those ridiculously hollow air bubble sheets. One was right next to me, but luckily I was spared having to converse with him, because something else caught my attention.

Her name was Fluffetta.

She also was a packing fluffy in case you couldn't tell. Pink, and yes, very cute.

I am sure the conversation hasn't the least interest to you, but suffice to say, it was the best night of my life. Fluffetta understood me as no fluffy ever had. I hoped we'd stay in the same box forever.

But I am already speaking in the past tense. Why is it that all too often, the best things cannot possibly last?

The next morning we were able to see more of our surroundings. The styrofoam cups were only one article of many. It was a party. There were streamers, cake crumbs and deflated balloons all over the deserted room. It was some consolation to see that our cups had provided a dozen kids at a birthday celebration with drinks. And besides, now I had Fluffetta.

Clean-up began soon, and we watched as the man came back with his son.

"Hey Johnny, why don't you go throw that box of packing pallets away? Won't be needing those, I think."

Johnny passed his hands through the box, and for a moment I couldn't hear Fluffetta any more.

"Awww Dad... do I have to?"

The man paused his sweeping for a moment.

"I suppose you could play with them, if you liked."

The boy frowned crossly and then looked back down at us. An idea suddenly dawned in his head, and a not entirely innocent smile played around his lips.

"Could I Dad? I'll play with them after we're done cleaning."

"Sure Son. Now, go pick up those balloons." He then added, more quietly to himself, "And to think that box of pallets would provide as much enjoyment as the remote control Hummer I got him. Ah well, I was just the same."

We were closed up tightly in our box and kept that way over night. I was a little farther from Fluffetta, but we were still able to talk to each other. I couldn't remember being happier.

The next morning, light streamed in again. We were somewhere else, I could judge, by the large tossing we'd endured on the way out. We were in a field by a lake and 2 small boys were nearby, playing with matches.

"Playing with matches?!" flashed through my mind and instantly I thought of Fluffetta. I would protect her as best I could. Fluffo was nearby again.

"Don't worry Fluffy, they're just young kids. They don't possibly have the patience to torch us one by one with matches!"

That was when I saw the gasoline.

The boys came back to the box, and Johnny picked up one of the fluffies I wasn't acquainted with. They lit him on fire and giggled when they had to drop him, so their fingers wouldn't be burned. I scowled in anger, though I doubt they noticed.

"Alright Bobby, set up the catapult!"

Though I would never condone burning packing pallets, I must admit their system was ingenious and rather theatrical. A metal box was tied to a long pole, which rested on a brick fulcrum. Gasoline was already sloshing in the bottom of the box.

I rolled as close to Fluffetta as I could.

"Listen to me. I think there's gasoline in the bottom of that container. If the worst should happen, I just wanted you to know..."

We were poured inside and suddenly I was swimming in gasoline. It was the most sickly feeling, as I know anything styrofoam tends to break down in this despicable liquid.

They were already reaching for the matches. Fluffetta was somewhere near the top.

The realization suddenly hit me. I knew Johnny's plan. He would light the top fluffies, wait for a few to begin burning, and then launch the entire box out into the lake. The rush of the gasoline would ignite and turn us all into a flying puddle of napalm, which would burn for a few minutes on the surface of the lake, much to the enjoyment of Johnny and Bobby.

I could not, I would not let this happen.

"Hey Johnny, look, they stick to your hair!" Bobby had gotten a few spare fluffies and the static made them stick.

"That's stupid Bobby. Let's burn 'em!" Johnny lit a match and dangled it over the box. I gave a cry of determination and just as his hand lowered towards Fluffetta, I let loose the static attraction between myself and Johnny.

This electric force was shared with more than me. Suddenly there were dozens of us in his hair.

Johnny stood stunned for a moment, holding his match. Bobby was open-jawed and could only point at the little curl of smoke rising from Johnny's hair.

"AHAHHHAHHHHH YAYAIAIAIAIAIAIAAAAAAAAAEEE!!!" Johnny screamed.

He threw the match in the air and waved his arms for a second, before Bobby grabbed him by the arm and threw both of them into the lake. They scrubbed their hair vigorously for a few minutes and then dashed breathlessly over the hill away from the lake.

I floated for what seemed forever on the lake. I hadn't been burned and though I was deformed from the gasoline, I knew Fluffetta was safe somewhere out there. It was enough for me.

Perhaps someday I'll find her. So if you ever see a pink fluffy and wonder where she's been, think of me. Fluffies have feelings too.