I Had A Question

So I sought an answer. I looked behind silos, underwater, between the lines of out-of-print taxonomy texts. I branded objects as “right” or “wrong.”

That January I met a mathematician who studied knots. Like rope I asked, no, like string theory he replied. Then I wanted to know which planets may harbor life on their moons. He shrugged. Beckoned the waitress. It started a morally inhospitable year.

I leveraged my concerns. I was humbled by saplings. I began ending sentences with “in today’s world.”In December I met a prophet. I had been inhaling incorrectly my entire life.

From Guest Contributor, Liv Lansdale

Mathematical Calamity

Calamity followed him everywhere. His primary school was destroyed in a tornado. His middle school suffered an earthquake. His high school burned down in an electrical fire.

As the catastrophes mounted, journalists and theologians began looking at the pattern and noticed him at its center. They speculated he was a malevolent hell-spawn.

It wasn't until his death at the age of one hundred and seven, a four-time widower and the survivor of several plane crashes, two world wars, and the nuclear holocaust, that a mathematician finally made the proper assessment.

Ralph Warner was officially the luckiest man to ever live.