Ficlets

There is a lot of chatter on the infowave tonight, as I sit on my Italian sofa watching my Nipponese television and sipping Jamaican imported beer, thinking about how there’s there no such thing as “Made in the U.S.A.” any more.

Aside from bombs, I mean. Yeah, we still make great bombs.

Compression bombs that squish every physical object in the blast radius. Bio bombs that induce pulmonary embolisms in humans of a certain age group, leaving behind no trace evidence other than the piles of corpses. Info bombs that scramble any signal in the vicinity and replace their streams with government propaganda.

Some Nazi group even came up with a bomb that effectively reverses the melanin levels in people’s skin, turning anyone it hits a milky white color.

Yeah, we make a lot of bombs.

I lean back against the couch and close my eyes, and imagine somewhere someone is writing a book, painting a picture, playing a song on a guitar.

I close my eyes, and imagine anything else. Anything but bombs.