Friday, October 22, 2010

Multiverses

Multiverses.


            Have you ever thought about how it would feel if we switched spots with inanimate objects around us? For example, what if we switched roles with wrapping paper during Christmas? Instead of little kids ripping opening their presents, what if wrapping paper ripped open the children for Christmas? It’s a dark thought, I know, but think about it! The theory of the multiverse states that there are different universes containing every single situation imaginable.
     Somewhere, guitars are getting out their six-stringed humans and playing a song for an audience of guitars. Their voices are the sounds their strings would usually make, and every time they strum along their human, their voices come out regularly, like a singing instrument.
     Somewhere, we humans are eating grass and leaves peacefully in a forest, and deer are using their rifles to serve their fawns a nice, warm dinner. It makes an entire new way of thinking when you hear the words “Deer Hunter”.
     Somewhere, computers are using their humans to gather information and to write papers that are due soon. Somewhere, whiteboards are writing on us. Somewhere, cars are driving us. Somewhere, money is using us to pay for their McDonald’s.
     Bats are swinging us to play baseball.
     Bikes are pedaling their humans on the way to school.
     Books are reading their texthumans.
     Drinks are drinking humans.
     I’m sure that by now you see my point. It’s so weird to think that out of any universe, any time, any place, we are exactly where we are. The computer screen rests here on this very table; I sit hunched over a keyboard in this small town that almost nothing happens in.
     I walked my dog to a lake (my dog could be walking me somewhere) just yesterday, and we played fetch. We ran around this lake for a good hour, doing absolutely nothing important. The sun was right over our heads when we sat under a tree right next to the lake for lunch (trees could be using us to cool down).
     Around the corner of the hill by the lake, a small paddle boat came along. An old man with a huge, white beard was paddling along with his fishing pole hanging off of the end of his boat. He was humming and whistling a tune that I could not recognize. He kept paddling, slowly but surely, into the middle of the lake. Word around the town is, the lake is loaded with huge fish. It is so full; apparently it only takes a few seconds to get a nibble every time.
     Next to this old man on his paddle boat sat a little red lunch box, the ones you would see kids with today (somewhere, lunchboxes are opening their children to see what their mothers packed them for lunch). It had a cartoon on it, like the really cheap ones you find at a supermarket. My assumption was this man did not have a place or enough money in this world, and the reason he was fishing was because he did not have anything to feed himself that night.
     This old Santa Clause man stopped at the middle of the lake and cast his line in the water. He waited a few seconds, but there was no bite. Either it must have been a slow day or many people had been fishing before him. He let out a loud sigh; I could hear it from the side of the lake. My dog could too.
     The old man grabbed his lunchbox and set it on his lap. His fishing pole got a nibble, causing Santa to lean forward a bit, and his lunchbox fell into the water. My dog turned his head to the old man when he heard him scream, “Dammit!”
     Santa reeled in his line, and set his fishing pole out of the water on the paddle boat. He leaned down to grab his lunchbox, and when he picked it up, he dried it off with a towel he had on the boat. He opened the lunchbox while he was facing me, so I could not see the contents of it.
     I swear to you, I saw a string connected to the lunchbox. Whenever Santa opened the box, his mouth dropped, and I was sitting there with my thumb up my ass, wondering what was in it.
     Just then, Santa fell straight into the water. He didn’t come back up for the first few seconds. I stood up, as did my dog, and we waited. Santa burst out of the water screaming, “Help, HELP! They’ve got me!” His left hand flew in the air, and from there, I could see a huge hook had went all the way through it, and he was bleeding everywhere. Santa was pulled back down, and from there, everything was silent. Once again, thumb up my ass.
     Out of nowhere, something red and brown flew out of the water. I thought it was a head, or maybe some part of Santa’s body. As soon as it landed, I was dumbfounded. It was meat. It was a raw piece of meat. I thought to myself, what was that supposed to do, lure me?
     It was to lure my dog.
     I didn’t think fast enough. My dog was a big dog. He loved raw meat, meaning he went straight for it. He took a huge bite, and staring him, a hook shot straight out of his cheek. He let out a huge cry, and that was when I saw the string attached to the hook. My dog was yanked, and he pulled with all of his might, but he was dragged to the lake. I was screaming, if I had grabbed my dog, I would have been pulled in.
     I thought I saw the fish, waiting at the edge of the lake for my dog to come out. But I was so scared to even look, I just ran straight home. (Somewhere right now, houses are running to their humans to take shelter.)
     I don’t know who is reading this, I don’t know what multiverse you are in, but they are real. I don’t know if you are reading from a universe where food is cooking you, where shoes are wearing you, where blankets are using you for warmth, but where I am, the fish are fishing us. If this doesn’t fill your head with thought,
     I don’t know what will.