86ed

86: iIt's a number we're clean out of at the end of night, and we are we forever out of ideas, 86ing them, hold the Mayo? Waitress slang for You're shit out of luck, buddy. Only no one wants to say it as if there was a taboo to say:  I'm sorry we are out. It's a placeholder of sympathetic magic. Sort of like saying The Scottish Play for Macbeth. 

I mean someone has two to say it eventually, can't leave the customer (who is always right) in the dark. Maybe the crab nebula is 86ed. No more half-crab salad with starfish for the blackholes lining their noses up at the infinity line. What's it called? Event horizon. The place where time stops. 

That's because eight keeps on going around i little infinity circles, endlessly repeating itself, chasing its own tail. So the six is left with the job of telling the customer: I'm sorry we are all out.

But six longs for nine, its mirror opposite. So it can snuggle up head to comma, and get on with the business of zodiacal equations. So it crabbily stumps out and tells the customer the bad news. 

Someone pulls a gun, shoots six in the belly. Stars and plasma leak out. Six is dismayed. Eight is now laying on its side busily trying to turn itself inside out, or  into a Mobius strip. Running time backwards and forwards and simultaneously. 

Six leaks out, becomes bowed, wonders about becoming a zero chasing its tail. And now this tale now has to end.

2/13/04