Saturday, January 22, 2005


I awoke this morning with the remnant of a dream still in my buffer. I was an eleven year old god and had taken the Earth out of its box to play with it. I tried to perform a minor miracle, rescuing a construction worker from a fallen crane, but everything I touched set off an unforeseen series of events. Plus I tended to accidentally squish people when I moved them around. I consulted the rules on the underside of the box lid, which stated (in part) that any futzing on my part would always cause more harm than good. “Why can’t I do what I want?” I whined to nobody. “I’m god.”

As always, draw your own conclusions.

1 comment:

Petely Pancroid said...

Man, I read a story like that in grade school. Except for the god part. Or maybe it was implied now that I think about it.