snails-of-god

[snails-of-god]

i would never leave home without my portable smokehouse. gotta keep the salmon on their toes.

asking "hey is it fine if I smoke in here" and before you're able to answer I've already set up a full rack of salmon over a fire in your living room

[snails-of-god]

it is absolutely mortifying having to convince my rich family members to not give me extravagant gifts. i have no need nor desire for a $5000 acoustic guitar i'm a college student. i'm not even a music student.

[snails-of-god]

I hate airport security. why is TSA allowed to ask me incredibly invasive questions like, "why do you have seven go-gurts in your tote bag?" as if it isn't my right as an American to have as many go-gurts in my bag as a please.

[snails-of-god]

[snails-of-god]

there is no dignified way to eat an ice tickle

[snails-of-god]

26 September 2023

The doors open and I am lifted

By gentle hands. She pours warmth

Into my belly until I am full and

Holding my handle, raises my lip to hers

Until I am empty and cold

[snails-of-god]

28 October 2022

The Bear at the End

At the edge of a dying universe, there was a Bear. He was not a small Bear, but not particularly large either. His brown fur was long and thick, perfect for keeping him warm in the void. He was very straightforward, even as bears go. The Bear had never been the kind of person to say anything other than what he thought, and he was easily confused. He had lived for a very long time and seen many things. He was not as old as the now-dying universe, but he had lived long enough to know that the end was near. 

“The universe is dying,” said the Bear, to himself, “The wormholes are getting bigger. I will soon be swallowed.”

It had never occurred to the Bear that the universe would be eaten by worms, but from his vantage point among the flickering stars, he could see that the hungry worms would be the end of the universe after all. The Bear moved to a different cluster of stars as a nearby nebula was devoured by a ravenous worm.

“Excuse me!” 

The Bear turned. He had never known worms to speak so hearing a disembodied voice unnerved him.

“Excuse me, Bear,” said the disembodied voice, “May I ask what you are doing here?”

“Here?”

“This is my cluster of stars, and I do not like intruders,”

“I’m sorry,” said the Bear, “but the universe is ending. It’s being eaten by worms. Had I not found this cluster of stars, I would have been eaten too.”

“Well,” huffed the disembodied voice, “I suppose you can stay, with it being the end of the universe and all.”

The Bear sat down in the cluster of stars. Looking around, confused. He still couldn’t see the person he was talking to. Perplexed, he asked,

“Who are you?”

“Can you not see me?” returned the disembodied voice, “I can see you.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t see anyone,” said the Bear, looking around the cluster of stars, “I appear to be alone,”

“Try looking down,”

The Bear looked down and saw a duck.

“Hello,” said the Duck. She was a very average-sized duck. The green streak in her brown feathers glinted in the starlight. 

“You are a duck,” said the Bear, “What are you doing here at the end of the universe?”

The Duck thought for a moment, and said,

“I could ask the same of you, but I will not. I have been a duck for a long time and I think I know why you are here.”

The Bear was flabbergasted. How could the Duck know why he was in that particular cluster of stars at that particular time? The Bear had been a bear for a long time as well, and he thought that the Duck was, to put it nicely, full of shit.

“I will elaborate,” said the Duck, “You are here because you have thus far escaped being devoured by worms, yes?”

“Yes,” admitted the Bear

“But by fleeing the worms, you are prolonging your own suffering by delaying your inevitable expiration. So my question for you is, why do you have hope for this dying universe?”

The Bear was bewildered. He didn’t have any hope for the dying universe. He was simply doing what bears do, surviving as long as he could. In truth, he hadn’t really put much thought into why he was avoiding the worms. He supposed that, even if he didn’t have hope for his universe, he might have hope for himself.

“I’ll ask another question while you think about my first,” said the Duck, absentmindedly fluffing her feathers, “What are you going to do with the hope you have for the universe? Are you going to waste it, spending whatever is left of your life running away from the worms?”

“I do have very large claws and teeth, and I am very strong,” said the Bear

“All true statements,” said the Duck, the Bear sensed that she had a plan. Ducks are wily like that. The Bear had never encountered a duck that didn’t have a plan to achieve one end or another.

“I could protect you,” said the Bear. Complex plans are against the straightforward nature of a bear, but the Bear felt it was necessary to get in on whatever plan the Duck had going.

“I could protect you if you let me help you with your… whatever it is you’re doing,”

“I will ask you one more question, Bear,” said the Duck, “Do you truly believe that this universe can be saved?”

“I guess not,” replied the Bear. He could see the holes in the fabric of the universe growing larger. Galaxies were falling into the great whatever that lay on the other side of the holes. The Bear didn’t think that there was anything beyond the holes. The Duck knew that they were simply tunnels to other places in the universe. She also knew that the growing wormholes would destabilize the universe. The Duck didn’t want to be there when the universe died.

“So what do you want to do?” said the Duck, defying her nature. She hadn’t wanted the Bear to know that she had no plan, but the universe would come crashing down in what would be a few minutes if time even existed anymore.

“Could we make a new universe?” queried the Bear,

The Duck thought for a moment. Making a new universe had never occurred to her. Maybe bears could think about more than hibernation after all.

“I don’t see why not,” said the Duck

“I want there to be lots of rivers,” said the Bear, “clear and always full of fish. And huge forests and trillions of stars to shine in the sky at night,”

“I want the worms in our new universe to be so small I could eat them in one bite,” replied the Duck. The Bear’s very bear-like vision for the new universe amused her. Privately, she agreed with the Bear, but she would never let another duck catch her agreeing with a bear.

The Bear and the Duck had to work together and they were both very tired once their new universe was complete. They surveyed the new universe they had built, star by star, galaxy by galaxy, quark by quark, and were pleased. They had created a beautiful universe. One that made sense. 

The Bear yawned. He was very tired. Creating universes made him want a nap. The Duck watched him find a nice place to sleep, making a nice, bear-shaped constellation in the process.

“I think I like this universe,” said the Bear

The Duck bent down and ate a worm.

[snails-of-god]

11 October 2023

Phlying Phill: Taking Phlight

Oh, hello. Another visitor. I seem to have become somewhat of a tourist attraction of late. Did anyone stop to think about how inconvenient it is to have strangers traipsing around one’s house at all hours? Did anyone consider my feelings about this arrangement? No. Of course not. Once the media finds out that the laws of physics don’t apply to you, they take it and run.

 I’m sure you saw some advertisement or other and said, I sure could use a vacation. Hey, honey, do you want to go see Phlying Phil? Who’s Phlying Phil, you surely must have heard of him! Come have a look. And then you told your lovely wife, and she is lovely, all about how I was born immune to gravity so my mother sewed me to the carpet of my house and Oh, we need a vacation, let’s take a drive. I hear Phil is beautiful in the fall! Well fuck you, I’m beautiful year round.

I can see by your shocked expressions that I am not what you expected. Do you have the advertisement with you? Can you hold it to my face please? You can come closer, I can’t see it from this far on account of my being sewn to the carpet. Ah, there it is. You thought I was still small. You expected to see a wee babe like the one on the advertisement. Yeah, that’s an old picture. Well, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the infant you wanted me to be. Believe me, if I could go back to before I gained consciousness, I would. Alas, aging happens to the best of us.

How old am I now? 25 next month, but don’t you dare pity me. My life is great. Since my parents moved out when I became a roadside attraction, I have the whole house to myself. I have this open skylight to look out of and a lady who feeds me my meals. I get to watch the clouds go by all day and on Tuesdays, Loretta makes mac ‘n cheese. I love mac ‘n cheese. Stop crying. My life is wonderful. I’m never bored, I never wonder what grass feels like or what the rain tastes like. I have never felt less than human and I harbor absolutely no resentment toward my mother.

What are you doing? Ma’am, what’s in your hand? Ma’am? Are those scissors? Why do you have scissors? Are you- are you cutting my stitches? But I’ll float through the aforementioned open skylight! I’ve never been outside before, what if I’m allergic to bees? Ma’am? Oh no, I’m floating! Can someone please hold my arm? I’m nearing the skylight! This is the end for me. I can see the headline now, Phlying Phil Phlies Away! Farewell, sweet Loretta! I hope the clouds taste like mac n’ cheese.