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Dayton and Delaney sprang to waking with excited conversation about Saturday morning cartoons, jumpstarted from sleep to active television planning in zero point three seconds.  Absent their energy and enthusiasm for a day what dawned too early, their aunt peered from one periscopic eye and strained to read the cool blue numbers of the bedroom clock.  An annoying six-three-zero, ugh, and it bracketed my snooze time at a flabbergasting three and a half hours.

     Exhausted, I feigned sleep, albeit without exaggerated snoring.  My plan embraced simplicity.  Once the children left for the living area, I’d stretch through the bed.

     As soon as their feet touched floor my legs uncurled.  Arms followed, unfolded into a comfortable, back-relieving spread eagle, but the observant kids spotted my sly unfurling.  They ignored slumberous intention and smiled over the potential of my reposition.  Their chatter forewarned I created a great play horse.  The two charged the bed, with exuberance.

     Clambered onto my unready back, the children dug in their barefoot spurs, with zeal.  The novice riders jostled, bounced, and hyper-jumped to another world, well distant from a mere bedroom.  Adventurers on a rugged western trail, the aunt jockeys pushed their tired play horse to her endurance limit.  Parched throats drove the riders beyond rest, around semi-eroded mesas, and by dehydrated stands of saguaro cacti.  Intrepid, they used only rough reckoning to locate the next watering hole.

     My kidneys signalled alert for a different watering need, and if I failed to see to it pronto, the aunt horse faced embarrassment.  Trapped in the unfortunate conundrum, I debated whether to end their fantasy or hold my fill – as best I could.

     Dayton worked two locks of my microbraids as reins.  Delaney rode back-saddle, hands on his waist as she yelled encouragements.  ‘Giddy up, Horsee!”

     I chose, ‘hold my fill’.

     “Uh uh uh uh uh.”  The sound pumped from me at the pace of a full gallop, a moaned exhale part playful feedback, part quiescence to inescapable plight, timed to their down bounce.

(A 335 word snippet from Twinned.)

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