The comma of it

She sat there in the haze of the mobile light, darkness leaking in around the edges of her sanity. The earwig had warned her that it wouldn’t be easy, but who would have thought that the memories would rise up against her?

In the corner they boxed with common sense as their referee. She wasn’t doing a very good job, though. It was the Alzheimer’s that did it. It built a nest in a tree of my subconscious, always collecting the shiny trinkets that would have slipped through the cracks.

Eat, drink and by merry the cannibals told each other, but the magazines weren’t the same thing. Skin and bones were one thing, but what was the point of print, the zebra asked.

Your mind, you see, tries to connect the dots, tries to create a story, but the tale has been lost, with Eeyor asking his friends to find it. That’s what comes with depression, I explained, that’s why the tooth fairy stopped collecting outstanding payments. The medication didn’t help, it just made us think of cataclysms, nude women slick with sweat and apple pie.

Through a hole in time I peeked out at the whole of it, looking for that part which made it all tick, but it’s difficult to find the timer after the explosion. When I find him he tells me, You could have warned me about the questions. You could have told me that ruling the universe would be mainly an administrative job. I didn’t get any choice, you know, it was forced upon me.

But nobody really believes he’s a reluctant ruler, so I gave him half of my lunch. Two sandwiches with cheese and afterthought. No cigarettes, though. I need those for after I’ve given birth to reality. It’s a tough thing, forcing everything out through your mind's anus, but somebody has to do it.