Did I kill the ant? They questioned me. Yes, I killed the ant, replying in smooth, measured strokes. The ant insolently marched upon my Nestle Quick glass, whereupon he proceeded to my ever-connected arm. I spied him there, the rotting bastard, and swept him onto my guitar, where he was instantly pulverized by the enormously erect heat.
The authorities decided to go easy on me, the softened criminal. Thus, while I bobbed my head vigorously up and down, they warned me of the impetuous wrath of the ant’s husband, the Senator.
The Senator was an awful, cruel man only tempered by his smashing good looks and occasional Tourettic tendencies. The Senator tracked me down two days later; tracked me down living in my disposable trailer park. “How did you find me?” I gasped, my cool, measured strokes disgruntled and decomposed.
“I merely followed your trail of abused linens and disposable handy wipes,” he replied. “And the rest was merely bookwork.”
Never resting nor allowing me to slip into the cosmic unknowhen, Brother Time plucked me from my sorry situation and photoned me in a more suitable time. I.E: Five minutes beforehand.
I gazed upon myself and wondered how I could
tell myself the future without
I gazed upon myself and wondered how two of
me could exist without
upsetting some sort of space/time contingent which all mankind was
depending upon
upsetting some sort of Homo-replica device which all life’s data
was stored upon
or telling myself too much and thus sending my current self into a
never-ending spiral
or off-setting some law of naturegod and sending all life into a never-ending
spiral
of doom and destruction.
of doom and destruction.
Wait! I thought. I know: I’ll merely say what
I was thinking at this time
Wait! I thought. I know: I’ll merely say what
I’m thinking at this time
and hopefully, I’ll comprehend all these incomprehensible compromises
and hopefully, the other I will understand these incomprehensible compromises
hence allowing us to escape the impending danger/doom.
hence allowing us to escape the inevitable danger/doom.
“Cabbage. Ha! Now I’m in perfect sync with me. Quick! I’ve got to get out of here! Listen, there’s a trap door under the melted tarpaulin canvas floor. Duck under it before I’re in real trouble!”
SCENE: The Two Abracadavers escape from near danger/doom and the disposable trailer park. Racing past cardboard cutouts, they stop outside a local McCrory’s to dialogue.
PRESENT: Now explain myself, or I’ll not go any further.
FUTURE: Don’t worry. I’ll understand all of this when I’m me. In fact, when me’s I’m, remind me not to worry about all this, since I’ll understand when I’m me. Oh wait, I just did.
PRESENT: What if I decide to go against me?
FUTURE: Well, I thought about that when I was me, but I decided not to, since I wouldn’t be here if I did.
PRESENT: Ah! This is all that ant’s fault isn’t it?
FUTURE: You know that already.
PRESENT: So how can I cease the Senator’s vengeful and thoroughly un-sexy plan and live to be me?
FUTURE: Well, remember what he said?
PRESENT: No! I’m not me yet!
FUTURE: Oh yes, that’s right. Well, he said:
“I merely followed your trail of abused linens and disposable handy wipes,”
“And the rest was merely bookwork.”
PRESENT: Well, then, I’ve got a plan!
FUTURE: Yes, I know.
And so, Brother Time plucked I and me once again and sent me and I to the ideal time to remedy this situation: Twenty minutes ago. (Twenty-five for the Future)
“Yes!” I/I cried. “Here I/I am at the foot of the trail of abused linens and disposable handy wipes! I/I have no time to lose!”
I/I quickly began gathering the abused linens and disposable handy wipes and shoving them into the ever-so handy and roomy trouser pockets I/I was wearing at the time(s). I/I followed and gathered the trail until it led up to my/my home at the disposable trailer park. Collecting the last abused linen, I/I gazed into the horizon.
“Uh-oh.” I said.
“I know! It’s...”
“THE SENATOR!”
I/I ducked inside my/my home to provide quick and immediate shelter from the oncoming well-dressed chaos.
“Oh flip,” I said.
“What?” I inquired.
“I don’t remember this part.”
I/I gazed in wonder as I sat on my/my/my inelegant sofa/recliner-trophy.
“Wait,” I said. “This means...’
A sudden flash of light marked my arrival from the
future into my/my/my/my elastic den.
SCENE: The four Abracadavers gaze in wonder at each other in their elastic den.
FUTURE1: What does this mean?
FUTURE2: This must mean my plan did not work.
PRESENT2: What’s going on here?
PRESENT1: I was wondering that myself when I was me.
FUTURE2: GREAT SAINT MARY’S LOOFAH! This must mean the only solution is to
FUTURE1/2: Save the ant? NEVER!
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood the conservatively-dressed, handsomely shaved, coruscating viper of a non-squirrel mammal, The Senator.
And, as I/I/I/I said at the beginning of this narrative, unfortunately for the ambient masses, the ant died on the guitar to-day.
End
------written Fall 1998------