Flash Fictions
The Theory of Relativity
I've met dictators and they usually act kinda silly. I've run from places so small the doors can't have hinges. I've twisted metal into shapes magnets don't recognize. And I've seen clocks, but they're not all that interesting. It's not that time confuses me, because the minute hand clicks on dashes at regular intervals. I guess what makes my brain slightly unstable is the idea that our months and days and years are based on circles. Things revolve, I'm told, and the earth moves. So, we measure time like a merry-go-round. Someone once said, although not to my face or any other body part, only a genius can draw a true circle. Walking around and watching the air pressure blow from people's mouths, fluctuating to form notes and tones, I just don't see many geniuses. In fact, when facts eat those great eats, I've never even met a genius. So, unless there's a factory in some desert bunker where child prodigies are strapped to assembly lines making clocks, I'm never going to buy a watch. No, not even if you promised me snack cakes for life or a thousand ten gallon barrels of cream filling, will I ask you what time it is again.
Raising rabbits is not easy. No, no it's really not. If you get scared, e-mail me and I'll calm you down. Things being what things being.
