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My Unpredictable World by B.J. Lee
The donkeys chirp, the birdies bray, dogs meow and kittens bark. The rain falls up and soaks the sky. The rainbow has no arc. The ocean’s waves are made of sand, the beach of salt and spray. The rivers have all jumped their banks and run the other way. The television watches me and tries to mute my sound. The crossword puzzle comes uncrossed and all its squares turn round. The clock strikes eight, the noon-day stars have turned to ruby red. Unpredictable is fun but messes with my head.
Albert the amoeba, a microscopic thief had stolen from the hydra clan and now had come to grief. The Unicellular Police were hot on Albert’s trail. His pseudo-feet moved oh-so-slow. Would he be thrown in jail? He tried to hang with slime molds, but they swam away from him. The rotifers rejected him; his prospects now looked grim. But suddenly he had a thought, a bright, pseudonymous plot— a perfect way to slip and slide from this tight, ominous spot. He fissioned once. He fissioned twice, and quick as one-two-three, Al and Hal and Sal and Cal, all said, “It wasn’t me.”
A dollar bill is fungible – convert it all to dimes – but lemons are not fungible if switcherooed for limes. A hedgehog and a porcupine are similar, indeed, but don’t have fungibility. Each one’s a different breed. The aardvark and the anteater both keep the ants at bay, but aardvark works the evening shift, the anteater, by day.
A best friend is not fungible; instead she is unique. You will not find her like again, no matter where you seek.