It has come to your immediate attention that, due to
its chemical make up, the universe smells like rum and
tastes like raspberries.

This is an issue. For it stands to reason that within the
vast vacuum of space, you will never get to immediately
experience the taste and smell of the cosmos, an injustice
you absolutely will not stand for.

You begin building rum-and-raspberry flavored dishes out
of any material available: rum-and-raspberry floating islands,
rum-and-raspberry super soft cream, rum-and-raspberry
sausage and stew and steak, rum-and-raspberry foam that
melts into a puddle eventually, and none of it suffices.

However, within the super-duper mess of your cramped kitchen,
covered in sugars and salts, it comes to mind that, if everything
erupted from the tiniest star at the beginning of time, it then
stands to reason that everything and everyone is made of star-stuff.

You make preparations to mix together the sum of the world into a
great gumbo, and the quixotic populations lick their lips.

12/15/2010

Author's Note: From the series "It Was a Monster Big River Down There."

Posted on 12/15/2010
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