Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: drabbles

3/May/2013

In Case of Organ Failure

Beginning to suspect that Dr. Donum’s insistence on cloning specifically herself hints at a deeper problem in her psyche. I am withdrawing my previous conclusion that it is yet another sign of control issues. I saw blueprints on her desk. Next week I will attempt to surreptitiously get a closer look. It should also be noted that in case of organ failure, a clone of her would be ideal to pick organs from.

I exchanged the samples, of course. We are in fact cloning me now, to keep that woman’s trickery at bay. Besides, I deserve it more than her.

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2/May/2013

The Microwave Problem

The microwave oven engineers made a box that only worked when closed. It was too small for a child, and yet puppies had the occasional misfortune of being cooked.

This problem was posed long before the teleportation device was realised. Supposedly it was something the engineers of the microwave oven had faced: how to make people avoid putting their body parts or children inside the machine, as it is obviously unsafe for them? The device needed free air, so they had to run a current through it to discourage body parts. Yet, puppies had the occasional misfortune of being cooked.

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1/May/2013

Did You Write about Me?

You broke a rule and it sounded like a twig snapped. You say you’ve forgotten that night when it rained and we could still see the stars, yet a smile flashes across your face when I tell you March 23rd, 2008. I suppose it was March 24th, by then, but you’ve forgotten the wet grass and how you put your cold hands down my warm pants. And if I paint you a slow picture, you remember but you can’t say if I cried before, or after, or what you thought. And your lip twitches. You should have that looked at.

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30/Apr/2013

Harddrive Rust

When grandpa still existed, when there were any grandpas at all, he used to explain to me that there used to be more than one sun in the sky. He said there was harddrive rust in the universe and that all the stars had become similar and they had then become one. Concepts were disappearing, merging. There’s just one sphere now, and there are no grandpas, and soon there’ll be no memory of grandpas either. I think my hands used to have more fingers, but I don’t know what comes after ‘five’. The one sphere sings a solemn, lonely song.

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29/Apr/2013

Befriend a Spectre Day

It is hard to have ghosts as friends. They do not see the point in eating like you do (did) and they can float for days staring at the same painting, really looking at it. They appreciate things differently from us. And bit by bit you fade away. Ghosts are deaf, because all matter passes through them, they are always in the vacuum of space. Your hearing gets worse and worse until you’re sure flesh-people are just mouthing things at you to mess with you but then someone drops a plate and: nothing. And you should have eaten days ago.

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28/Apr/2013

Strigiformes

Don’t look in the obituaries. He didn’t die but he might as well have, he is gone. He dropped out in a rather suicide-like manner but there was no splash, no blood. No-one looked over the edge. No-one said anything. Ripples of lacks of facial expressions spread through the crowd and he was an absence.

He had told us not to search the ravine floor, as he wouldn’t be there and we’d be wasting our time. He must have fucking hated the thought of us wasting our time, huh. We held a not-funeral by the side and didn’t invite anyone.

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27/Apr/2013

You Say So Little

I taped your mouth shut while you were sleeping so that your muffled screams would wake me. I knew your first instinct would be to rip the silvery tape off, so I tied your fingers to your thumbs and made your whole hands useless. You say so little to me, I thought maybe your words just escaped too silently for me to hear, even though I press my face up to yours as close as I can without touching you. I never touched you. I will remove the tape if you want me to, it’s easy, just say the word.

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26/Apr/2013

Where the Cracks Would Form

I just want to slam my fucking head against this wall until either head or wall crumbles. I shaved my head and I felt the skin there for the first time in years. I know how it will feel when I burst open. It will be pain and rapture. I can feel it when I close my eyes, the eggshell, how thin my bone is. When I rest my head against the wall imagining the strength I would need to tear it down, and you slam the door and the house shakes, I can feel where the cracks would form.

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25/Apr/2013

Introduction to Top Hat Physics

But they must to come from somewhere.

Why?

Because things don’t just appear. They do not originate from your hat; they are coming from somewhere else.

I don’t follow.

You can’t actually create anything. At best you can… assemble.

That’s it, then. The rabbits are assembled by the hat.

But you can’t assemble rabbits.

You just said–

I know what I said. Shut up, I’m thinking.

Maybe it’s like, a loan. I’m borrowing the rabbits from their future offspring.

That doesn’t make sense.

Don’t overthink it, then. Just be glad you were shipwrecked with a real magician and stop complaining.

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24/Apr/2013

Gossip

Take off your clothes, and take this paint and brush. Paint little faces all over your body and smooth out your features. Open your mouth; don’t open your mouth. This is no way to breathe. Be calm. Where is the air coming from? No, listen. The faces have begun to talk amongst themselves. Their voices are drowned out by the way your heart drums in your ears, you must stop it.

Good.

You are in a room with no-one else. They are moving. When your features return, the faces will be gone. You must hear what they are saying now.

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