The Scrawls

A laboratory of invention, a home for stream of consciousness scribbles, passages of undetermined length, and discombobulated story fragments.

Updated Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

The Warning System


The air smells good today. It doesn't smell nice every day. The things this human cooks sometimes smell vile. I don't know how he can ingest them. He thinks I can't smell it when it comes out his other end, because he's placed me far away from that special room, but I can smell it. I can smell everything, that's my whole purpose!

Luckily I don't have to ingest the things he cooks, all I have to do is smell them. When the smell gets really bad, then I scream. I scream to warn him he's ruining his food, making it something even he won't eat.

That's my life, day in, day out. I smell things. I don't sleep either, I just breathe in, and out, all day long, and all night long.

He's back late today. He's had food out it seems, he's going straight to bed. For the best, I don't have to smell his cooking!

I don't really notice the passage of time, but it's dark now. He must be sleeping, but what's that smell? He isn't cooking, but is that smoke? Oh, that's definitely smoke, and that's a fire! How did that happen? Time to do my job!


That fire seems to be spreading very vast! This isn't good.


Where is he? Is he really still sleeping? The curtains are now aflame!


Finally! There you are. Yes, yes it's a fire, I can see you're surprised. I've been trying to tell you. Well? Don't just stand there!


Hey, where are you going? You're in your underwear! Fine, I guess you can't stop this yourself. At least you saved yourself, how wonderful for you. What about the rest of us? Boy, these flames sure are hot...