evolution of the redundant hand

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The redundant hand was searching, begging for employment.  The onset of feebleness was taking its toll.  Surely there was some purpose for its digits?  They rapped, twiddled and flicked aimlessly, procrastinating a deep lunge under its lover’s belly.  The bum drums had been played and worn out long ago, they lay dormant and tense waiting for the return of the redundant hand.  It lay pondering in a Hamlet like grasp the many choices that lay ahead... the mountains?  The bush? The canyon of fire where no redundant hand had dared venture before.....Discombobulated from its owner’s paranoid mind, it flapped aimlessly in a humid world of passionate warmth.  The big toe struck the G-string of the acoustic Tanglewood guitar at the foot of the bed, offering a rhythm to still in its sweet disposition. Downstairs the kettle was beginning to boil...many redundant hands had passed through these walls momentarily daring to twist and venture only where labored hands had been before.  In a feat of heightened exasperation it reached out for an area only used previously to smuggle peanuts at a time when peanuts were contraband.  It grasped and flexed, a muffled scream could be heard, a combination of the kettle boiling and the peanut roasting which blasted the redundant hand and all active limbs into an orbit of ecstasy and freedom from its trapped existence.  Finally the redundant hand had found freedom…


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Created: Jan 29, 2011

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