Between the Slats

Slumped flat across the sun-baked cedar slats of the garden bench. The midday heat softened my purple bulk until my edges ran thin as warm syrup. Oozed slowly downward through the narrow gaps between the planks. Half my weight sagged beneath the bench into cool shadow, while my snout stayed pinned above in the bright glare. Swung like a heavy, dripping hammock between wood and air. Plop. Plop. Thick purple beads dripped lazily onto the dry gravel path beneath me. Let out a low, bubbly gurgle, snapping my jaws in a lazy yawn as the breeze cooled my stretched underbelly.