Allegorical Smattering

Once there was a little girl who walked along a nice forest path and she had on a nice backpack with pink strappies. Inside the back-pack was a sack lunch full of tidily packed plans and suggestions of where the girl should walk along to. She had a map just in case she got lost. But she didn’t. She walked along whistling and grinning with round rosy cheeks.


Then the path ended.

And the girl fell off a cliff.

Don’t worry—it’s not quite as dire as you may have thought. The girl is sort of floating. Sort of falling. There’s a definite gravitational pull that she can’t wriggle out of. But it’s more like she just fell into empty outer-space, and the girl keeps floating all around, all around, and the girl keeps floating all around.

This is the main point: her nice back-pack with all the nice plans and trajectories in it got too small/girl got too big, so she’s trying to scrap together a knap-sack now. And granted, a knap-sack suits this chica way better than a pink sparkle back-pack does, but it’s a freak-deeky thing to assemble it herself. And where the heck did the nice forest path go. Whhhoooaaaaaahhh, far beneath the empty universe, it is.


Choices float by the girl like asteroids and comets. She uses her cool new knap-sack to try to swat at them, and she catches a few. The floating gets UNCOMFORTABLE. Why the empty universe. Why the chaos and asteroid comet choices. Why the lonely astronaut suit. Friends drift by—no they don’t, they hike on by below her, on the nice forest path, with Northface back-packs and ruddy cheeks. What up ya’ll. They can’t hear. WHAT. UP. YA’AAAALLLL. What? Oh. (A look up.) Hey floating girl! What’s it like up there? Meh, we don’t really care. See you around!

Peace out. Um.

Yeah.