Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Daily Story 84: Don't Ask How He Shaves

Within moments the gate was secured. Reality folded itself into a four sided pyramid in the air in front of me, rotating slowly and humming like a kitchen appliance - which I suppose it was, seeing as how I had used my microwave as a grounding point. The pyramid was black, the black of a bottomless pit without edges, so dark it seemed to absorb all light. I touched my finger to it, let my mind wander.

Each side of the pyramid measured about a foot in length, and was infinite in depth. As my mind drifter deeper into reality I became aware of the feedback again, a tooth-rattling bass rumble that increased as I came too close to the space in reality where the pyramid should be - in this case my kitchen. Getting within a mile of myself gives me a migraine so I drifted the other way, looking for a place to land.

Eventually locating the spot that I wanted, I zoomed ever closer until I was able to unfold reality to its proper size of infinity cubed and I stepped out into the bread isle. I got the sourdough and some milk, ignoring some guy who was screaming because he'd never seen someone appear out of thin air before.

Sheesh, some people get upset so easily. Using the milk display as a focus point, I prepared to go home and make my sandwich.