I was so simple before.
If you have two genetically identical children at the same time, they’re called twins.
But if you take one embryo and implant it in another woman, are they still twins?
What if you take one egg, replicate it a few times, and implant them all together?
Twins? Triplets? Quadruplets?
And what if you don’t implant them all at once? Maybe wait a year or two between pregnancies?
Are they now clones?
It’s so confusing. Makes it hard to buy just the right card, too.
Are you my brother?
Are you my mother?
Are you… me?
Tag: mystery
Christmas 2010
Despite the cold, I will go out today. I do this every Christmas.
I bundle myself up with a thick coat, woolen cap, gloves, and scarf.
Then, I walk the streets, handing out ten dollar bills to the homeless.
“Go get yourself something,” I say. “Merry Christmas.”
They smile and thank me: “Bless you!”
I don’t wait. I keep walking, handing out more bills.
When I run out, I put my cap, scarf, and coat on a sleeping drunk.
Yeah, they money’s counterfeit. Witnesses will point this dumb sap out to the cops.
Time to move to a new city.
Sleep Disorder
After a battery of tests, the doctor gives Jose the results: he suffers from somnambulism, walking around in his sleep.
Jose scratches his head. “How?”
And he pats the handles of his wheelchair. “I can’t walk.”
“Only when you’re awake,” says the doctor. “But when you’re asleep, you walk around.”
Jose remembered the car crash, the surgeries, and getting the bad news: “You’ll never walk again.”
He told them then that he’d prove them all wrong.
“I guess I have,” he mumbled.
“I’ve got good news,” said the doctor.
“What?”
“You’re also a narcoleptic, Jose. More time for walking, right.”
The Falling Leaves
It takes two hours to reach this spot, but it’s worth the journey.
See those trees? The ones with the red and orange leaves?
They’re just about ready, I think.
Spread out the blanket on the perfectly smooth grass, lay back, and look up at the sky through the branches.
Then, with the first breeze, the leaves start to fall… upwards.
Into the sky they rise, up and out of sight.
I don’t know why the leaves do that.
Maybe it’s a gravitational anomaly, or perhaps something in the leaves.
Just lay back and watch them rise, up and away.
Gum Wad
I chew a lot of gum.
And when I’m done with it, I keep it all.
Ever since I was 8, I’ve added to the gum wad in my room.
When I went off to college, I took it with me, and I stuck it in the back of my closet.
I went into the Army, somehow managing to get through Afghanistan without losing the gigantic gum wad.
Now, I’m back home.
I made my home out of the gum wad.
Here. Have some gum. Enjoy.
Just give it to me when you’re done. I want to build a patio.
The Predator
The predator lay in a growing pool of his own blood, flowing over the photos and newspaper clippings he’d taken to remember his crimes.
I’d shot him in the hands, the feet, the legs, the arms.
He begged for mercy as I reloaded my gun.
I ignored his pleas and the growing sound of sirens.
He then found some courage. “Who are you to judge me?” he growled, “You have blood on your hands too.”
And, so I did.
“But it’s your blood,” I said. “Hardly innocent.”
And then I shot him in the chest, again and again.
Click. Click.
Bed
I lift the covers and slide back into bed.
It still smells of you. I imagine that it’s still warm with you.
I turn off the light, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.
The room hasn’t changed much. A few familiar things gone, a few new things on the dresser and nightstand.
People change. Even you.
That’s when I hear your key in the lock downstairs.
I get out of bed, pull on my clothes, and crawl back out the window.
As I watch you sleep, I wonder if you can feel my warmth, smell my skin.
Sleep well.
The Creepy Silence
When you live in a world of light, the darkness is what you fear.
And when you live in a world of darkness, you grow to fear the light.
Creeping into the cave, the human bumps his head on a stalactite. “Damn it!”
Waiting for him is a dark elf, watching quietly.
The human hands over a sleeping baby, and the elf hands back a satchel full of gems.
“Princess Garamond wants to talk about alimony and visitation,” says the human.
The dark elf nods. “Less often and for longer, I hope.”
They both chuckle and return to their worlds.
House Guest
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I watched the ragged homeless guy haul refrigerator boxes out to the weedpatch by the train tracks.
Then, it was shopping carts full of broken appliances.
Item after item, he hoarded into a pile until I got curious.
There, in the tall grass, was a magnificent palace, constructed of junk and litter.
I was buzzed through the gate and met him at the front door.
“This place is amazing,” I said, and he gave me the tour.
A pool.
A ballroom.
A movie theater.
He smiled. “Now that I’ve got the guest house done, I’ll work on my mansion next.”
Pascal’s Wager
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You need a little history lesson, Sonny.
Blaise Pascal said that even though one could not prove God’s existence through reason, one should bet on God’s existence because you have Eternity to gain if you’re right and nothing to lose if you’re wrong.
To bet on Him not existing means you can earn Damnation or Nothingness.
Which would you choose?
Anyway, lifelong afflictions suggested he hadn’t long to live, but making bizarre wagers based on God’s existence actually caused his early demise.
The Organization wasn’t as tolerant then as it is now.
We just break your legs.
Now pay up!