Mayor of the Snitchies

There are red and green snitchies in my fingers, They rapidly chase me down my wooden hall. Delightedly twirl me I into a mass with their zingers, Eleven can quickly roll me into a giant ball. An enormous blue green snitchie ball is on top of the frig. Keeps me from going willingly into my very own kitchen. Six are around the corner, laughing, playing lifetime bridge. I can clearly hear the oldest craziest one britch'n. I close my eyes and cringe, the start of every single weekend day. Snitchies in my mind, making me feel like something is off. Pink and lavender snitchies, yelling “hey, woman get up, hey!” Grandma Snitchie is knitting an afghan, and I hear her cough. I close my eyes and pretend I am asleep or dead or have had a fall. Ignoring them in the nicest way, knowing how fast they can roll me. Into a snitchie ball. Uncomfortable before I have bath-roomed at all. My heart stops as I hear an army of them stomping down the hall with glee. Their stories were charming at first, so I let a few in, but they got old fast. I hold myself in a very polite “I am dead” sort of way, hoping they will leave. Surely this Snitchy Colony they have made in my house cannot forever last. They bounce me off and roll me up, so now I am sort of almost a bit peeved. Guess what? We’ve made you our mayor, they yell happily. I am excited, because I did not know I had even run! I fly through the air and someone catches me quite snappily. I giggle and laugh. Being the Mayor has made this semin-hostile Snitchie Take Over quite fun!