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| Something Slightly Lighter by mrs. johnson 08/05/2003, 5:40am PDT | ||||
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| Maybe I should just stick to dark brooding ambient writing? Eh eh?
There’s reason to all of it. Imposed reason. Reason derived from something endlessly complicated and applied to something that produced the endless complication in the first place. An unbroken cycle of self reinforced understanding. Sweat and blood and death, all devoted to some sort of final conclusion that can only exist once the enlightened seekers cease, physically and mentally. Unattainable, unless during the moment before death, and then, useless. Well what use is there at any time? Attainment of happiness perhaps, or satisfaction. Material fulfillment or an omni-directional sexual iridescence. Maybe. The key, as it is said, is no key. The search, the need, the analysis is used to create an illusion of some superiority. Anyone can do it, given enough time. That’s all that’s needed; the creation of leisure time. A socially outcast child will do, for instance. He or she must do something with the time created by loneliness; why not analyze the immediate surroundings until they disappear? Until they can no longer hurt. These thoughts passed through the head of one Max G. Duntrost. His middle initial is short for Gortrionamel and is not a name found in any modern Earth language. It was given to him by his father, and it was the name of the deity that his paternal muddle saw in his dreams. The two dimensional god didn’t tell him to kill or anything quite so cliché. It asked Max’s father about his life. Every night, a different question. For twenty five years, this happened, until his father died in his sleep, mumbling something profound, yet, predictably, too soft to actually be heard. Max had been slowly questioning his own rationalization system when the preceding thoughts crossed his mind. They scared him. They demonstrated to him that intelligence was a myth, and the exclusive product of spare time. With a full hour spent on morbid thoughts, Max finally left the comfort of his bed and walked, wearing only his undergarments, to the kitchen. Living alone, he had discovered the joys of wasting time. Having experienced only a few years without parental observation and persuasion, Max still valued the relative freedom of his surroundings. He often woke up and instinctively awaited the oncoming barrage of criticisms. He then instantly realized that his father was dead and that his mother moved to California to be with her sister and the sunshine. Somewhere in these depressing thoughts, Max felt a tinge of loneliness, but ignored it. On his way to the kitchen, he stepped on a small sliver of glass that had been lying there since before he had even begun renting the apartment. “Son of a bitch,†Max mumbled. He hobbled over the bathroom, and sat down on the covered toilet, to examine his foot. There was a trickle of blood, and the edge of the glass was peeking through. Max tried to grab hold of it with his fingers, but managed only to push it in farther. After more swearing, he found some slightly rusted tweezers, dipped them in peroxide, and dove right in. Within a few seconds the shard of glass was still farther into his foot. The flow of the blood was now barely a trickle, so Max said “Fuck it†and applied a band aid to the surface of his foot. He promised himself that he would call his doctor later, but he had errands to run, and things to do. While eating breakfast, he began to hallucinate. The strange crystal caverns of the shard had become a hoe for some particularly ferocious bacteria. Upon entering Max’s body, they quickly took a blood gondola to the brain and began to settle down. Max’s brain promptly let out a fistful of chemicals to fight off the invaders. Unfortunately, or fortunately, these chemicals also caused some rather severe delusions. “Who are you and how did you get into my house?†Max was talking to the three headed Coffee Mug that was sitting across the table from him. “Don’t play coy with me. You know who I am.†The heads were purely decorative, it seemed, as the mug seemed to be talking with the ripples on the surface of the black liquid that was almost certainly delusional coffee. “I really don’t. Really.†Max would have been upset if the warfare inside his head would have allowed for any meta-analysis. “You must have forgotten. No matter. I’ve come to take you to the universal center. You have been chosen to impregnate the universe.†Max’s mouth parted slightly and his eyes relaxed considerably. The mug continued, “Don’t give me that stare, it is all arranged. You won’t have to raise the child. All we need is your seed.†Max finally gathered enough words in the right order to reply, “I… What the hell will it even give birth to? Why me? Who are you?†“One at a time, fly boy. I’m the messenger. The child will be half universe, half man. We haven’t actually seen one yet, so you know as much as we do about that. Why you? Well the profiles matched up. You enjoy talking and Asian food, and the universe is the summation of all existence.†The mug was smiling, somewhere. Max attempted to think of a way to say no, but that seemed somehow inappropriate. After a few moments he saw the fatal flaw in the plan, “Hold on. If I have sex with universe, and I’m a part of the universe, won’t the universe essentially be having sex with itself? Like masturbation? You can’t get pregnant from masturbating.†Max anxiously awaited the answer. The mug paused and began to steam. “I’m not really authorized… I should probably contact headquarters….†It suddenly disappeared, and reality rushed in to fill in the mug-shaped void. The bacteria in Max’s brain had been defeated and the chemicals had been sent down to the bladder for retirement. Max sighed carefully, and continued his morning rituals, being very careful about avoiding all thought. Just in case. the mrs. |
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Something Slightly Lighter by 08/05/2003, 5:40am PDT  Fluff. NT by 08/05/2003, 9:38am PDT ? NT by 08/05/2003, 4:55pm PDT Re: Something Slightly Lighter by 08/05/2003, 12:33pm PDT Re: Something Slightly Lighter by 08/05/2003, 4:46pm PDT Re: Something Slightly Lighter by 08/05/2003, 9:06pm PDT Re: Something Slightly Lighter by 08/06/2003, 3:37am PDT |
