Rot in Hell

On the sidewalk is a crumpled yellow wrapper that says, in red letters, “Rot in Hell.” Looking closer, I see it now says, “Cheeseburger.” The wrapper can’t fool me: I know as soon as I pass, it will return to its real message.

The World-Tortoise

It's true a great tortoise supports our world on her back. What’s false is the tortoise enjoys doing so. In fact, the tortoise is dead. Humanity was too heavy for her. Rain is the grief of the tortoise’s father, and volcanoes are the anger of the tortoise’s mother. Each morning, I think about how I’m driving my car over a big dead tortoise on my way to Dunkin’ Donuts.

The Sun Father

My father warns me not to stare at the sun. The morning after his funeral, I finally gaze at the forbidden star, and I am instantly sent to hell. Hell is on the sun. It makes a lot of sense if you think about it. Hell’s not bad. I’m adopted by another family, my sun family. I even have a father here, my sun father. We are protected from flames by cool winds of dark matter. It’s too bright to see much torture. My sun father warns me in his splendidly melodious voice to never to listen directly to the center of the sun, which is a tiny roaring black hole. I wonder if inside the sun there’s another hell after this hell. One day, after my sun father dies, I’ll find out.