(no subject)
Have you ever awoke under your bed?
If you make a left turn, somewhere else, in some other place you made a right turn. And still somewhere else, a universe different than the one where you made the right turn and the one where you made the left turn, you went on going straight; and still somewhere else you were confused and just turned around. Millions of years ago people began to walk upright. What if we had started to walk on our hands instead? We'd walk about with our most private parts in the air (that sounds more suited to the human mentality anyway).
A buzzing from the small plastic alarm clock filled the room. A hand emerged from a blanket cacoon and smacked the clock. As the man climbed from his bed, his brain showed him an image of himself still tucked in bed. His brain then went on to tell him that he stayed in bed and didn't go to work that day and got fired from his job. When his vision came back he was standing in his bathroom in his boxer shorts, very much awake, and very much out of bed. Frightened at the thought of losing his job, he quickly dressed and left his house.
Sitting at a stop light he flipped his left turn signal on. The cinema in his head showed him his own car with it's right turn signal on turning right and driving around the long way to his office. As he was turning left a little birdy showed him the wreck a few blocks down in the direction he'd turned and his boss turning bright red, smoke emmiting from the ears as he walked in late for a meeting. He was contemplating why he hadn't turned right when he noticed that he wasn't seeing the cars at a stand still in front of him, but he was seeing himself arriving at work from the opposite side of the building; the side he'd come from had he turned right.
His morning went on like this, seeing things that weren't really there, other scenarios that were sometimes the better and sometimes the worse of possibilities. About lunch time his head was spinning and he was starting to think he was really dreaming when his boss approached his desk and asked if he was alright. I'm fine, of course he told the plump man standing in his doorway but as he said this he saw himself telling his boss that he really didn't feel well, the plump old man told him to take the rest of the week off; it was only Monday.
He walked down the stairs to the sandwich shop in the lobby of the building, but his mind was in the elevator meeting the gorgeous blonde from the third floor and sending him the snapshots. He avoided food poisoning from the roast beef by chosing the turkey because he'd seen himself vomiting later that night. The rest of his day went on like this; sometimes he avoided the unfortunate, and other times he was momentarily doomed.
As he drove home that day everything flooded back to him, all the decisions he'd made, all the decisions he hadn't made, flashes of decisions he'd put off, and the ones he shouldn't have left alone became apparent to him. It didn't matter that he didn't eat the roast beef by the time he got home because his head was spinning so fast he regurgitated his turkey sandwich onto his shoes. He did not pass go, did not collect two hundred dollars, he did not let out the dog, he did not shed his business suit, he did not check his answering machine that told him his sister had had her baby, he did not take out the garbage, he just trudged up the stairs trying not to think and fell into bed without setting his alarm. As a result, his rug was stained from the dog, his favorite suit was unimaginably wrinkled, his sister felt incredibly offended and his kitchen smelled strongly of days old food, but he did not see any of these possibilities and he was content.
If you make a left turn, somewhere else, in some other place you made a right turn. And still somewhere else, a universe different than the one where you made the right turn and the one where you made the left turn, you went on going straight; and still somewhere else you were confused and just turned around. Millions of years ago people began to walk upright. What if we had started to walk on our hands instead? We'd walk about with our most private parts in the air (that sounds more suited to the human mentality anyway).
A buzzing from the small plastic alarm clock filled the room. A hand emerged from a blanket cacoon and smacked the clock. As the man climbed from his bed, his brain showed him an image of himself still tucked in bed. His brain then went on to tell him that he stayed in bed and didn't go to work that day and got fired from his job. When his vision came back he was standing in his bathroom in his boxer shorts, very much awake, and very much out of bed. Frightened at the thought of losing his job, he quickly dressed and left his house.
Sitting at a stop light he flipped his left turn signal on. The cinema in his head showed him his own car with it's right turn signal on turning right and driving around the long way to his office. As he was turning left a little birdy showed him the wreck a few blocks down in the direction he'd turned and his boss turning bright red, smoke emmiting from the ears as he walked in late for a meeting. He was contemplating why he hadn't turned right when he noticed that he wasn't seeing the cars at a stand still in front of him, but he was seeing himself arriving at work from the opposite side of the building; the side he'd come from had he turned right.
His morning went on like this, seeing things that weren't really there, other scenarios that were sometimes the better and sometimes the worse of possibilities. About lunch time his head was spinning and he was starting to think he was really dreaming when his boss approached his desk and asked if he was alright. I'm fine, of course he told the plump man standing in his doorway but as he said this he saw himself telling his boss that he really didn't feel well, the plump old man told him to take the rest of the week off; it was only Monday.
He walked down the stairs to the sandwich shop in the lobby of the building, but his mind was in the elevator meeting the gorgeous blonde from the third floor and sending him the snapshots. He avoided food poisoning from the roast beef by chosing the turkey because he'd seen himself vomiting later that night. The rest of his day went on like this; sometimes he avoided the unfortunate, and other times he was momentarily doomed.
As he drove home that day everything flooded back to him, all the decisions he'd made, all the decisions he hadn't made, flashes of decisions he'd put off, and the ones he shouldn't have left alone became apparent to him. It didn't matter that he didn't eat the roast beef by the time he got home because his head was spinning so fast he regurgitated his turkey sandwich onto his shoes. He did not pass go, did not collect two hundred dollars, he did not let out the dog, he did not shed his business suit, he did not check his answering machine that told him his sister had had her baby, he did not take out the garbage, he just trudged up the stairs trying not to think and fell into bed without setting his alarm. As a result, his rug was stained from the dog, his favorite suit was unimaginably wrinkled, his sister felt incredibly offended and his kitchen smelled strongly of days old food, but he did not see any of these possibilities and he was content.