Apocryphal

It spread out, a blemish against the pale orange-purple of the dusk-kissed old city. It was red, smooth and an eyesore- the people all commented (to the air, of course, and to whomever would listen) that the city council was mad. You didn’t tear down old art for new art. It just wasn’t kosher.

It was, however, quite a surprise when the tongues didn’t flap when a large bird careened off course and hit smack into it. It fell on a little girl.

It tasted like cheese. Only not like cheese and a little more like the moldy bits. Like, whatsit. Salty. Tangy.

“Are you done yet?” she deadpanned, not looking the least bit pleased. “I’d like my leg back if it’s all right with you.”