Turn Left Whenever You Can

by Thomas Wooten

A large entity one street over is having its throat cut by a chainsaw. My mindset is to let it happen but that seems vulgar in comparison with Hamlet and my Hamlet complex has been acting up ever since I got back from the funeral. The clerk brought out the Book of Do Not Go Gentle into That Black Hole and I didn’t want to go at all but if I did I wanted to come back. He asked me to make a selection. I asked what he had in stock. He said everything except reincarnation as Nietzsche’s moustache which was still holding up rather nicely. Having children is one answer but it’s been done so badly by other people who were better qualified. Another is coming back as a teenage love song. Founding a major religion leads to disappointment in your followers who invariably spend their time on their knees in your shrines wondering if sex is really as important as it seems. This isn’t the mystery you’re hoping to inspire. Operating a beer franchise? Who doesn’t remember this local worthy? If somebody hadn’t already been Calvin Klein, I’d offer my services. Vintage clothing never goes out of fashion. A little bird said life is by definition a tautology, a noun trying to act like a verb. Which is Hamlet all over again. The chainsaw has stopped. The entity lets out a sigh. I can hear it dying in the back of my skull.