Everything Comes in Threes
by Jason Nelson
There is an attachment all creatures have to all other creatures. All
entities are connected by a tangible, touchable, thinkable substance. And
by entity I mean everything from the first female Pope to the electronic
bits broken and reformed as music to the flavor of sunlight. And by
sunlight I mean those sparkling particles the super-intelligent androids
manipulating the fiery burst we call the sun use to control our,
deceivingly harmless, aquarium fish. But then that’s another story now,
isn’t it. This substance holds our world and all other worlds together. It
makes us sad and happy and hungry for humping. Sometimes this goo collects
between two people or rocks or bicycle spokes and becomes concentrated. You
might be expecting me now to say something about how these creatures and
objects then fall in love under the power of this gooey stuff. But love has
nothing to do with goo. Instead love is governed by a complex system of
ropes and wires haphazardly connected to cattle in the Texas panhandle.
Lucky for us it seems the cattle haven’t yet discovered their power over
love. But I’ve seen some pretty bizarre love affairs lately, and fear our
meat supply might just be screwing with us.
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