Several years ago I was sitting in my Stinson Beach kitchen, chatting with Joe Mama, the Cable Guy. Because it was after noon, and because I was chatting with the Cable Guy, I poured myself a glass of wine. Several conspiracy theories later (you don’t want to know) I realized the glass was gone. I traced my moving-around tracks in this small kitchen but that glass of wine was never seen again. A few days ago, in a kitchen far far away, I opened a jar of mole with a red can opener that has not been seen since.
The existence of Bermuda Triangles in this world is not disputed – not the ship-eating type or the sock-eating type – so it is not even a stretch to figure that there is a universal small-household-object type. Or even personal, individual Bermuda Triangles, black holes which follow us around and from which our doppelgangers reach out on occasion to snatch away our stuff for whatever purpose. Maybe they take them to some kind of doppelganger garage sale, or maybe they just like to watch us looking around furtively, on top of refrigerators, in laundry baskets, knowing that we look ridiculous. Joe Mama would surely find a Knights Templar connection here (you don’t want to know).
1 comment:
So that's where that glass of wine came from. Damn, I quit drinking for a week over that one.
Can I have my bag of nails back now?
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