Month: May 2025

It’s not easy being a Sultan. I have more wives than I know what to do with, and still my outfits clash.
Don’t tell me. I have mirrors. I can see. And what I can see, is good.
I see I still have all my limbs. How many? It doesn’t matter. I’m tired of looking at them. Someone bring me some wives to drape over my various appendages.
Put her over there. And let her bisect the triangle described by the other two. Or maybe not. Bring me one who is more limber. No, I do not need to move. Yes, it is a double standard because I get to have double the fun!
And now, finally, my movement is limited by all this beauty. And only at this time can my brain start working. Because my brain is in limbo since it is always trying to escape from my body. Yes, it thinks it can except when it knows it can’t.
I love being buried under so many arcs and curves and chords. I also trust this setup more than my bodyguards because it is always moving and squirming, and the wives are always bisecting each other. When I am like this, my fear of death disappears.
When I am at the bottom of the heap, I can start thinking of the immortality of the soul. I am too scared, otherwise. Immortal is such a long time. But not long enough, am I right?
It is a liminal space, where the element of fire predominates. With hints of earth, since I am being pressed into the ground. That makes me a flower, by extension, and because I said so.
I would trust more of my enemies, if they, too, were held down by at least six wives. We should make the world a safer place.
And all our flowers would finally open.

“Well,” said Majestine, “it looks like he’s dead.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” sobbed Angelaura. “And so I ordain you to lezzerect him.”
“Do you think I can make the dead stand again as alive?”
“He doesn’t need to stand. He can kneel. But yes, alive, please.”
Angelaura brooded.
Majestine blinked disapprovingly. “If you’re going to wallow like this, it makes me question why I raised you as a Princess of Dextopia.”
“I’d rather wallow with Prince Enrique than bask in the sun all by myself wearing a silly tiara.”
Majestine blinked again. “It may be a silly tiara, but it is studded with conflict diamonds. From a generation ago. And you know how difficult it is for me to speak of conflicts.”
“I’m sorry I brought up unpleasantness. But can you see how sad I become when you talk about gem-studded things when my own stud lies collapsed on the ground!”
“I thought you did not like men. The whole point of our Queendom is, we don’t like men.”
“You know it’s not that I like them. I feel sorry for them.”
Majestine thought about this. It made sense, and yet! “Liking them has never been done. Feeling sorry for them has also never been done. And, of course, lezzerecting any of them has never been done. We don’t know if they’re strong enough.”
“No, we don’t.”
“And, surely, if you liked one of them, you wouldn’t want to kill him by accidentally.”
“It seems all I have are choices that obscure the one the other.”
“Shall we just let him stay dead?”
“Oh, but he was so cute. He just waded in the water when he saw me.”
“Yes. He didn’t know he couldn’t swim. Probably a clear sign he wasn’t that smart, even when he was alive the first time. Think of what might happen if he returns to us.”
“Time is short. I command you to wand him!”
“But, Princess! Does he even have the neural capacity of a woman? Wanding could really fuck him up.”
“Or it could teach him to feel. Do it. Now!”
And so, muttering, Majestine whipped out her special, adamantine wand and touched it to the snow-white cheek of the unmoving Prince Enrique. He twitched slightly.
“Try other places!” whinged Angelaura.
And so, the wand was moved down the sternum, across the thorax, until it rested atop the abdomen. And there, it began to glow.
“Maybe they really do have ovaries?” It had been part of the debate about these legendary creatures.
Though they could not believe their eyes, the Prince rose up. He was the first of any other species to be lezzerected.
What a shame he got up and ran the hell away.
“OK, Princess, giver of life, “smirked Majestine. You gave it a good try. I know you’re disappointed he didn’t talk to us.”
“I am nothing of the kind. Who says I wanted him for his conversation? I just liked to watch him run. And I got a double serving in one day.”

THE END

I can’t force you to love fission.
In fact, fission scares a lot of people well darn to heck.
Fission occurs when a neutron slams into a larger atom, forcing it to excite and split into two smaller atoms—also known as fission products. Additional neutrons are also released that can initiate a chain reaction. When each atom splits, a tremendous amount of energy is released.
Some people, oh they know that a big mess of energy is hidden inside. Let it out? Well, just one ding dang minute. The whole splitting open part is enough to give ‘em the heebie-jeebies.
And yet, what if I were to tell you that, when folks get a nose job, usually this involves breaking the nose?
Oh, I didn’t know that! I hear you snort. You didn’t notice because you got put under for the procedure. And there we are. Maybe it hurts to go through fission. Maybe it doesn’t. How would you know?
Some of us would rather stay inebriated. What if the snot, blood and fire is the way universes done gets bilt?
Or what if fusion was the better way? I hear you ask me this as we sit in a fusion restaurant. It is a Brazilian-Polish bistro. This is not a new cuisine, I think. This is where meat meets meat. But, there is not time to think this, because the fusion waitress brings me a fusion drink which contains passion fruit juice and Polish vodka. Yes, they are mixed, but it is not fusion, because of something called mass, and this is why it is diffusion, meaning the pulp is on the bottom of the drink and the vodka oil slick is on the top. When I drink it, I know I will have to chug the whole thing just to get some flavor, and I do, and that is why I puke 30 minutes later.
I am in the bathroom after that, popping an antacid into a glass of water. It is fizzy. It is rough, and ephemeral, and magical, like a firecracker on the fourth of July.
I am not forcing anyone to fawn, or blow a fuse. Gosh darn it, it is your decision if you take the path of fission.

“Coffee Will Bring the World Together”

“You’re Gonna Love Our Wings”