Mirrored

People reflect so much of what is around them. My fingers get nicely calloused from the guitar strings. And when I say “Get Stuffed,” to the Lammington, that pink fluffy thing thinks I said I wanted it to fck itself or something. So it starts multiplying. And then there’s all these Lammingtons around me saying the same thing, “We love the Lammington/ Have you seen the Lammington?/ I wish the Lammington was in.”
But that’s not my thinking, I can’t stomach such things. They upset me and distract me from what I’m doing. Then try to blame me for their pussy getting hit by a car.
Question is how do you get a Lammington to go away when you’re trying to concentrate on writing? Mash them.