The Nothing That Is

by Kyle Winkler

I marveled at how we, everyone, pretended to be King Shit in our everyday lives when really we were just galactic varnish on some more monstrous and vast body, simply an electric jelly sneezed into space demanding all protons and electrons come to their knees for our whims.

It turned its heavy, heavy head—for I knew its head was as heavy as a moon, even if it pretended to be a raccoon. “Stop worrying. This is not the first place I have taken, nor will it be the last.”

*chills*