Unhinged

My mind was latching onto one catastrophe after another, careering from one to the other at breakneck speed: “What if the polyps don’t produce molyps?” I asked myself. “What if the ferzals don’t go ahead and generate a good crop of merzals in the way they’re supposed to?” And then: “Suppose that the murps don’t arrive on the scene in time to comingle with the flurps, then how would there be any burps?” The more I thought about it the more I worried myself: “What if the frunzals don’t appear before the scunzels in the correct and proper sequence of things and are as a consequence unable to produce the right amount of grunzels? What would happen then?” This line of thought naturally triggered more serious concerns: “Never mind all the lesser details, what if the Big Detail were to go wrong?” I wasn’t at all sure if the Big Detail itself could go wrong but as soon as I thought of this possibility I couldn’t stop thinking of it: “Suppose The Process itself comes unstuck?” I asked myself, “Could this happen?” I had never considered this before. I went hot and cold all over – first I went hot and then I went cold. Never mind the polyps and the molyps; the hell with the bloody old merzals and ferzals, who could care less about the wretched frunzals and  scunzels and grunzels – suppose The Process Itself went off the rails? What then? Everything else paled into absolute and utter insignificance at the prospect of The Process Itself coming unstuck. My mind reeled at the mere thought of it. It didn’t just reel, it swung from side to side like a barn door about to be blown off its hinges by a Force 9 gale. It swung crazily, madly, insanely – one hinge suddenly ripping out entirely. A terrible rusty screeching sound filled the air and I realized it was me crying out in anguished despair. “Suppose the Great Sequence Itself were to come loose from its moorings?” I asked, “What would that mean for us all?” I couldn’t compute this possibility at all. I couldn’t get my head around it. We would be looking at nothing less than The Total Destabilization of Reality Itself. Reality Itself would come off its hinges – we could be looking at The Total Derailing of Reality! “What would that mean? What would such an eventuality entail, in practical terms?” I wondered. My mind was becoming pretty derailed itself at this stage. The weather conditions had worsened considerably by now and a particularly savage gust of wind suddenly tore the barn door off its hinges completely and sent it spinning crazily off into the distance. The barn itself would be the next to go, I realized….

 

 

Image taken from: whatculture.com

 

 

 

 

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