| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Fiction >> Dark >> ID #1717991 |
| |||||||||||||
|
THE TRUTH BOOTH
CREDIT CARDS OR PAYPAL ACCEPTED! Welcome to the only website that tells the truth! If you desire a large truth, a grand revelation or a startling discovery, I am not the Man. My specialty is the tiny morsel in the Whitman Sampler of one’s life. Now, I fully comprehend the purchase for the price. For a capital T "Truth", most would stop at nothing to learn its divinity. You would not be surfing this electronic carnival for answers about eternity. But reality comes in small parcels, tidbits that are never noticed. Secret morsels that are truly delicious. I am sustained by them. For a George Washington, for one meager dollar you can own, my friend, one of these forever. (You have tripped and fallen seven times this year). (There is a crack in the lower left corner of the mirror in the master bedroom). (You sold the blue pickup with the bad transmission). Aren’t you astounded? What do you mean, it’s a trick? I think it’s cute. How do I do it? No! No! I must keep you coming back, time after time. You have much to offer me. Sweet drops of honey for my tongue. You will buy these truths from me, and you will never notice that I thrive. (As a child, you were constantly punished for going to the bay by yourself). (The geisha dolls were taken by a distant cousin). Please charge your Visa two dollars. Next! Partake of my gift. Step right up. Every dollar added to my account weaves a tapestry in my mind. I see more clearly every purchase. It is a small thing, but accumulating rapidly. Nearer and nearer I move to a perfect picture of reality. What that contains will never be great. As truth grows greater, it gets more complex. That is unreachable for me. (Of course she feels the same way). No chance for error on minor lifelines. (Bathroom tissues are almost gone). (Moonlight swims with the big man on campus). Bring me these truths of family heirlooms and lipsticked collars. The memories and the what if’s are necessary. Tiny mysteries the world passes by. All these things represent the way life was, is and will be. They are true. So step right up, for I hunger. Come, dear ones, for I thirst. Closer. Closer. The world for a dollar. I will tell you a secret and you will be mine.
© Copyright 2010 beachbum (UN: brig227 at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
beachbum has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |