"That thing is ratty as fuck!"
So, my friend Kayla has this sick ass blanket from her childhood. I mean, don't get me wrong. I've brought a relic from my childhood to college with me as well. His name is Puffy, a beloved stuffed mouse/hampster type of creature that has a rattle stuffed in it's stomach. He's not so puffy anymore, unfortunately. But I thought after nearly twenty years under my possession, I thought it would be kinda ridiculous to call him Flatty, or something. Highly inappropriate.
Now, let's get one thing straight about Kayla's sick ass blanket. It's name is Quilton. Sort of an obvious title statement for a blanket. It reminds me of my friend Jesse who had a pillow instead of a bear and named it Pillow. Anyway. So, Quilton is falling apart unintentionally. The cutest thing about Kayla is the fact that even though her blanket is so disgusting and deteriorated, she refuses to give her beloved Quilton up. That thing sheds like a collie in the summer time. Pieces of Quilton have managed to be found in my sweatshirt pocket or taped outside of my dorm door, right on my white board with a message that read, "Quilton loves you!"
I don't love Quilton.
"That thing is sick! It should be called Quilton the cancer Quilt!" I said to Kayla one day.
"Shut up!" the usual response.
Hours later, the conversation would eventually lead back to Kayla's sick ass blanket. Sick sick sick.
"Sarah, you love Quilton don't you?"
I laughed hard, placing my hand to my chest.