Dear Sir, Madame, Fellow, or Lady, Whatsoever Which You Prefer, This is not my first time writing. I have written before. You may remember me, you may not. My name is Ramadupa. I am a yogi living in the richest state of India.
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“And then Ganesh came in with a machine gun and he hit the bazooka shell in midair. It was amazing!” Billy the Kid finishes his second ‘Nam story.
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Billy the Kid is saying, “Yeah, so the governor of Karnagapully is on the street, when suddenly, he sees a monkey, right? A big monkey. A monkey king! And there’s not supposed to be any monkeys here, this is Kerala after all.
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I am dreaming. How do I know? Because I am not me. If I was me I would not be at the helm of a pirate ship, relishing the smell of cedar. I would not be watching a sea of red swelling up in my face.
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“Hi this is my first post up here,” I do the characteristic first video pause, “here on Youtube. I wrote out what I was going to say, actually. Then I memorized it.
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“The Universe is shaped Exactly like the Earth,” A grey-haired Brock croons in three simulated dimensions with perfect fidelity sound, “if you go straight long enough you end up where you were--”
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“It’s designed to jettison into space in case of a boarding. But if you do jettison, then you need a code to keep it from blowing up. Benj, the Captain, never gave me the code.” He says this idly, as the doors close.
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Humming neither felt nor heard. Not seen either. Humming is not something smelled. Is not something tasted. How do I know of humming, then? How do you know of humming? Humming. I do not even see the color black, and not white. I have no sight. Humming.
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She’s big enough to see before I even feel her pulling. Sweet blue green, then bits of brown and puffs of white come into focus. The blue and the green diverge.
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Is that Earth to the right? Port? Aft?
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