Gravity

Today the kitchen garbage collapsed into a singularity. It was my fault. All it needed was a single cheese wrapper or the equivalent mass more, and, well, I had Swiss on my sandwich this afternoon.

I said: "Oh shit." Then I called for John.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Look at the kitchen counter, and tell me," I said.

He looked. Then he said: "What?"

"Look closely. Do you see how the entire kitchen counter and cupboards sort of dovetail to a sharp point? Do you see how the floor comes up to meet it about two feet off the ground?"

He looked some more. Then: "Oh shit. Did the garbage collapse into a singularity?"

"Yeah," I said. "Can you take it out?"

"Why do I always have to take the garbage out?"

"Because I have brain damage," I said. Yes, I'm still milking that, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

"Okay. But let me play City of Heroes first. Just for a few hours," he said.

"That's fine, but when you get to the garbage, please be careful that its tides don't shred your body apart and scatter your atomized nervous system and consciousness to all the silent corners of the universe."

"That would suck," he said.

"Yeah," I said.