Lying on your back, reading a tattered copy of "Are You There God?
It's Me, Margaret," you have for eons been drifting through a
gulfstream in space. At some point you were catapulted through earth's
atmosphere on the wings of an enormous trebuchet, but the details of
how, why, where, & when have grown fuzzy through the centuries.

While pondering the implications of society's view of the plight of the
pubescent female as presented by Judy Blume, you have until now been
unaware of your increase in speed, but every minute it becomes more and
more apparent. A quick view between your legs divulges why: you are
plummeting towards a black hole.

All attempts to swim away are futile, for the gravitational pull is so great
that even light is sucked into its gaping maw and your feeble doggy paddle
is no match.

Due to the speed of gravity, you begin splitting into halves: First, with your
feet moving faster than your head, you are split at the small of your back.
Then around the chest, and your belly goes hurtling downward. You split at
the neck, the nose, the forehead, the hairline, and on and on into exponentially
smaller chunks.

Eventually you split into particles: cells, molecules, atoms, electrons, quarks,
until at some point you are un-splittable, and the cloud of your intrinsic self
falls with a suckle into the void.

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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