The Fabric of Time

by Jason Nelson

Or else it’s something else that prompted you to pick through each of those

things you see. At first, it being the second number, you seemed to be a nice

gatherer. You gathered time and space like hours and inches, unless you’re into

that wacky metric thing those kids do now-a-days. I’m not trying to say being

divisible by ten is a bad idea, but honestly, what number isn’t. One day, while

you were out spying on marbles, I searched through your gathering pouch, and

there among the miscellaneous measurements was a small clump of twisty ties. Not

normal twisty ties, you know, the kind you find in grocery stores or hastily

written constitutions, but very powerful, almost too powerful, twisty ties. My

first thought, well not my first because that had something to do with doctors

and screwdrivers, was that you were into some expensive group therapy ritual. Then I

remembered that twisty ties, this particular type of rare twisty tie, are what

hold our vital organs to our oddly shaped existence. And if you gathered them all up,

then all the clear plastic sacks would break open, spilling tropical fruits and

cheap vegetables out onto the linoleum floor. Sure, some vegetables are

inexpensive and easy to grow, but those tropical delights, with all their

lactose and sucrose, are what hold our world together.