Bodyless jeans and suit ties litter subway seats.
Kettles whistle on stoves, complaints of negligence emerging as water boils over to meet the heat.
Years pass by with the sun holding her breath— silent, in a waiting.
Then, one drizzly day, a small beaver creeps out with her large log, creating a base upon which the panda pounds his bamboo sticks.
The monkey, unable to resist this primal beat, shakes his coconuts in rhythm.
One by one, all the animals of the world gather in a forest and stretch the intestines of their decayed over tree hollows.
They pluck the flesh strings and play celebratory music lasting eight hundred days and seven hundred and ninety-nine nights, until the seagulls start building contraptions that unravel fishing nets from whales’ bodies.
The bear steps in mud and onto a clean cave floor, discovering calligraphy.
The armadillos are finally awake.
But, just when the crows conclude the debate on the ethics of eating injured avians, the party is interrupted by a sudden thunder, and a burst of light. Video cameras cover the sky.
All right, let’s try this again everyone. Go in 3, 2, …
A booming narration that shakes the spots right off the ladybug fills the universe: Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over all the earth.
Two bodies drop from the heavens and plop right on top of the bees’ union strike.
The serpent watches in horror.
Damn, I just got my reputation back!