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Fiction by Eric Darton
Recital by Author

Art by  DK McDonaldSoon Come

        In the year 0, all men will be brothers. In the year 0, sandals will fly by themselves. In the year 0, intellects will become unlinked from bodies and we'll see ourselves as we really are – we'll see our true relationship to things. In the year 0, we'll ride bicycles and have practically no chins. In the year 0, the few dogs that remain will have been retrained as short order cooks to replace the grumbling, drunken ones who have taken off to their homelands to live in caves and grumble in languages unrelated to any other known languages and half-incomprehensible even to themselves. In the year 0, there will finally be some rhyme and reason to this madness. In the year 0, students will take to the streets and, seeing the true relation of themselves to things, pack it up and head for the beach. On the way, they will battle with roadblocks and burn policemen who are now made entirely out of vulcanized leather, riding horses made almost entirely of vulcanized horse byproducts. In the year 0, peasants will celebrate the transparency of cheese.

        In the year 0, you'll be able to say: "two over easy, whiskey down – takes bacon, crisp," and a dog will understand you. In the year 0, the earth's axis will be revealed to be a simple metal rod – no more, no less – with our orb transfix'd upon it. In the year 0, we'll see our true relationship to things – stand before one another as we really are. In the year 0, it will be safe to smell again. In the year 0, if the dog burns the home fries, there will be another dog to replace him, no questions asked. In the year 0, our children will accompany us to art galleries and say: "Meeow."

        In the year 0, the earth's transfixing axis will be found to be a section of an infinitely curving rod, and the earth a bead of sweat along an infinite brow. At the end of the year 0, the earth will be revealed as cowrie-shaped and not a sphere at all. At the close of the year 1, you'll recognize yourself in the mirror in my belly and I'll see the nails driven into your chest, and you'll hear the buzzing behind the mirror, and soon we'll see our true relationship to things.

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last update: November 19, 2008