Max Agigian ’19
That’s Just the Way It Is Sometimes Johnny! you cry out in anguish. Johnny! Yes, Papa? Your son smiles sweetly up at you. You suspect his guilt. Your voice is impossible, rife with contradictions: Eating sugar? You have no time to recover from what you have just done before he replies. No, Papa. You must know. Despising yourself, you press on. Telling lies? The youngest and most vulnerable of the eldritch gods cringes slightly. Your son, unfazed by the words that have just nullified your soul, answers with another falsehood: No, Papa. You cannot contain it. The words rip through the surface of time, forcing themselves out of your terrified, flailing throat: Open your mouth. Your son, the last gasp of causality in a universe now crumbling, turns his smiling face towards you and laughs brightly. Ha, ha, ha!
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