Well I woke up this morning, and I opened my eyes. I looked up at the ceiling. It fell on me.
Fortunately, I knew that since I lived in a bungalow, no more ceilings could fall on me. I brushed the debris of the ceiling away from my eyes and looked up through the tattered remains of the roof felt at the newly exposed roof tiles, twitching and groaning slightly in the encroaching heat of the morning. The roof fell on me, spearing cracked-off baked-earth daggers down and into me, like I was an arrowed martyr.
I brushed the blood-specked shards of the roof away from my body. I looked up at the newly exposed dawn sky. The sky fell on me, plunging at me in a powdery shake of disturbed cosmic matter.
I brushed the dust of the sky away from my eyes. I waited. I opened my eyes. Before I could focus, the solar system fell on me.
I clawed the drooled ooze that was the sun-melted mess of planets from my hair and I opened my eyes. The universe fell on me. This was not starting out the best of all possible days.
Furthermore, I was now in a dilemma. If the universe had fallen on me, where was I, since I was clearly not in the universe?
Moreover, I noticed that I was narrating in the past tense, possibly in a reaction to the remorseless trend for unbridled breathless present tense exposition that seemed to have taken hold of the literary zeitgeist of the nation, not to say the universe. This presented a further dilemma: if I was relating these details from a post hoc standpoint, where could I possibly now be, following the collapse of the universe?
I stirred uneasily on the bed. Uneasily was disinclined to move, which seemed unreasonable as she was an adverb, and hence her whole function was supposed to be the modification of action.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Distantly, remotely, inexplicably, surreally, dangerously, in an isolated fashion, in an alienated fashion..." she intoned. In spite of all my efforts, she was still incapable of speaking anything other than her own language: adverb-speak. It was a language high in variety, action and nuance, but low in style, contrast and coherent information. Possibly purchasing a bride from the Roget's Thesaurus Marriage Agency (Bangkok branch): mission statement – hundreds of brides to meet your exact requirements and thousands more to allow you to explore interesting serendipitous byways of your desire – had been a mistake.
"But how does our current position relate to the universe that we used to inhabit and which is now in pieces on the bedroom floor?" I enquired.
"Interestingly in a totally removed fashion alternatively separately externally," she replied.
This was not helping. I was tempted simply to give up. My life was without form and my marriage was without form and my surroundings were also without form. Even though everything was dark, I was clearly – and I use the adverb carefully – as I also did that one – in a post-universal universe. How could things possibly get worse?
"Please tell me: is this real?" I asked my wife.
"Fantastically imaginatively delusionally neurotically creatively post-traumatically unknowingly," she replied.
"So this isn't real?" I enquired. "This is a set of mirages, and I am in a linked series of ever-superseding dreams?"
"Indubitably," she replied.
"So how do I get out of here?" I asked.
"Imitatively repetitively intuitively perseveringly doggedly painstakingly in a disciplined fashion" was her response.
"So the only way out of this predicament is to embrace my inner adverbial mode of expression?" I asked.
"Certainly" she replied.
"But my whole prose style is based upon the removal of adverbs at the least provocation," I stated.
"Regrettably" was her single word rejoinder.
"OK. OK. I get the picture," I snapped in an exasperated fashion. I mean "I undoubtedly understand that I need immediately to apply myself stringently to diligently devising a set of solutions to this predicament in a determined and dedicated fashion."
"Exactly," she replied.
I repented immediately of my previous arrogance. Why hadn't I listened intently to the words of my wife before? Why had I merely sulked deeply and not attempted to interpret her words comprehensively?
In the dark, I clung tightly to the hand of my wife, carefully envisaged all the trusty documents of my library and pillaged them remorselessly for all available adverbs to assist me generously in my task of dreaming the universe promptly back into existence.
I intoned my mantra: "This is positively optimistically constructively affirmatively unquestionably in an upbeat fashion assuredly confidently certainly the best of all possible days."
The universe evaporated away from me and the drooled ooze that was the sun-melted mess of planets from the fallen solar system was back in my hair.
Again and again I repeated my mantra and the solar system evaporated away from me and the powdery shake of disturbed cosmic matter that was sky was back on me and then the sky evaporated away and the blood-specked shards of the roof were stretched across my body and then the roof evaporated away and the debris of the ceiling was caked across my eyes and then with the final repetition of my mantra: "This is positively optimistically constructively affirmatively unquestionably in an upbeat fashion assuredly confidently certainly the best of all possible days", the ceiling evaporated away and everything was calm.
And now, I feel the present tense swirling in on me. My eyes open, and I take cognisance of the world about me. I am aware that Uneasily is lying beside me, as still as before. Relief swells into me. The adverbially-enhanced power of positive thinking has worked. The ceiling is in place again, with the same minor expansion cracks that it had before. It creaks slightly, in a reassuringly familiar and solid fashion. It falls on me.
No comments:
Post a Comment