Flash Fictions

The Meaning of Life

Five years ago I found something. It’s pretty small, even fits in my pocket. If

you look for it, I’ll probably either feel a little tingly or call the police.

At first it wasn’t that big of a deal. I find lots of stuff. I even found the

meaning of birth one time, but it was a bit too messy and squirmy for my taste.

And that’s saying something, because I’ve tasted just about everything. No, that

rattling sound isn’t coming from my skull. No, no it’s not. So, as I was saying,

this thing I’ve found is fairly tiny, and in addition or division, it’s not much

fun. At a glance it looks like a transistor radio missing its battery

compartment cover. After a closer inspection, I realized that without batteries

there is no energy. And without energy there is no love. And without love there

is no meaning. However, if you do find a replacement for the battery cover, it

doesn’t matter. Because with just those few instruments and a rather short range

of tones and notes, all the songs sound the same anyway.


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