The garden ashtray is lucky enough to be used today as I relax in the sun attending to e-mails. It is so pathetic, moaning in pain as I put out My first cigarette on it's tongue. It must strive to accept My hot coal without making such a fuss. Luckily, I take out another cigarette and allow the slave to light it and put the garden ashtray to full use. Humbled and humiliated as I trample it's surrendered hand and its mouth hole wider with the sole of My strappy stiletto. I will make sure this object knows its place and fulfills its pathetic purpose.
