Everything Comes in Threes

by Jason Nelson

There is an attachment all creatures have to all other creatures. All

entities are connected by a tangible, touchable, thinkable substance. And

by entity I mean everything from the first female Pope to the electronic

bits broken and reformed as music to the flavor of sunlight. And by

sunlight I mean those sparkling particles the super-intelligent androids

manipulating the fiery burst we call the sun use to control our,

deceivingly harmless, aquarium fish. But then that’s another story now,

isn’t it. This substance holds our world and all other worlds together. It

makes us sad and happy and hungry for humping. Sometimes this goo collects

between two people or rocks or bicycle spokes and becomes concentrated. You

might be expecting me now to say something about how these creatures and

objects then fall in love under the power of this gooey stuff. But love has

nothing to do with goo. Instead love is governed by a complex system of

ropes and wires haphazardly connected to cattle in the Texas panhandle.

Lucky for us it seems the cattle haven’t yet discovered their power over

love. But I’ve seen some pretty bizarre love affairs lately, and fear our

meat supply might just be screwing with us.

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