THE HOO-HA MONOLOGUE

My hoo-ha is a delicate rose, unfurling, petal by petal, second by second, then re-furling all at once super-quick like a slap bracelet. It contains all the colors of the rainbow combined, which is to say it is black, like a cup of coffee, or a pot of coffee. My hoo-ha sings the body electric, although it is slightly sharp and two beats too fast. It is the alpha and omega, the cradle of life, the quickening, the Klumps, the Wrath of Khan. It is all of these things, and it is none of these things. And it is some of these things. My hoo-ha is a three-way mirror, offering perspective, but not flattery, and found in many, many dressing rooms across this land.
Some say the hoo-ha is mythical, like a Cyclops, but I can not only speak of its existence, but proudly proclaim ownership, including certificate of authenticity. Not of a Cyclops, those are indeed mythical. Some claim the hoo-ha can never be truly understood, not by mankind, nor by computers, nor even by the smartest people in the world, the computers of mankind. Yet I say that the hoo-ha is at once complex and simple, and to truly understand one must look without and within at the same time, so it helps to have bifocals. The hoo-ha is like a snake consuming itself, cyclical and self-reflective but not at all slimy. It is like the skeleton that will not cross the road because it doesn’t have the guts. It is the proverbial ant from that proverb about the ant. It is anything you want it to be, like an abstract painting or a terrible balloon animal.
My dream is that one day all the soldiers and warriors and politicians and hunters and police officers will put down their guns and swords and knives and bombs and Chinese throwing stars and replace them with hoo-has. Then we would be a society ruled by love, and the only violence inflicted upon the world would have to be done via hoo-ha, which would not only be impossible, but very difficult as well. This would pave the way for a hoo-ha President, or King, and an all hoo-ha Congress. A hoo-ha could be an astronaut, or a novelist, or a notary public, possibly even all three! That hoo-ha would grace the cover of Time magazine, and tell its harrowing story in an in-depth interview, culminating in the highest honor, winning the Nobel Prize. Or a star on the Walk of Fame. It may sound crazy, it may sound impossible, but that is how it all starts. With a dream, and a hoo-ha. My hoo-ha.
My hoo-ha is my best friend, my pen pal, my Secret Santa. It does not define me, but could potentially be used as a synonym for me, in a pinch. I am my hoo-ha, and it is me. We are one and the same, a Holy Trinity if you count me twice. And I certainly do. I certainly do. Count me twice.