As we walked the few short blocks to his office, Thomas told me about the organization he worked for.
They were a small collective of scientists and free-thinkers who were trying to understand the chaos that seemed to run our world. They had done comprehensive studies on a wide array of topics. Studies such as why people’s favorite colors are their favorite colors or what possible reasons there could be for a creature like the Duck-Billed Platypus to evolve as ridiculously it did. These were seemingly pointless studies.
“It probably has something to do with what color they associated with most as a child,” I offered as we walked past a colorful daycare center.
“That has nothing to do with anything,” Thomas said to me sharply and then stopped.
He stared at the children playing in the small, enclosed yard.”There is no such thing as nurture.”
We walked the rest of the short distance in silence. The streets seemed uncharacteristically vacant and still.
As we walked, I tried to understand what he had meant. Of course there was nurture. My mother nurtured me when I was growing up. Everyone was a product of their environment. At least to some extent. But the way he said it. I couldn’t help but believe him.
Eventually, Thomas gestured ahead to a large stucco building at the end of the block.
“That is my office. If you understand what I am about to show you, it will change your life. It will change the way you understand EVERYTHING.”
“What does that even mean? Like learning Calculus or Chemistry or something?” I asked.
“No,” he said, again in that sharp tone. “Not like Calculus. Not like Chemistry…”
Thomas paused. “…like Fiction.”
He held the large, glass door open for me and I stepped inside.
A man tapped me on the shoulder in the cookie and cracker aisle of the supermarket.
This is the beginning of the deconstruction of everything I know. Everything WE know. The deconstruction of EVERYTHING.
The man said his name was Thomas. His name wasn’t Thomas.
The man told me he was a Philosophical Scientist. I didn’t know what that meant but that didn’t matter because he wasn’t one.
Thomas explained that he didn’t know who I was but that it was important for me to come with him to his office a few blocks away. He assured me I wouldn’t be harmed. His frail frame convinced me this was true. He told me I needn’t be alarmed of any theft or foul-play. He simply needed to explain something that he couldn’t discuss in public.
I followed him.
I don’t know why I followed him.
Perhaps it was the sterile smell of his soft colored clothes that convinced me he really was a man of science. Maybe it was the way he spoke so vaguely succinct about this situation he felt so strongly about. Or maybe it was simply because I had nothing better to do.
Either way, I set down my basket of produce and milk in the middle of the aisle and I followed him out the sliding doors of the supermarket and into the auburn rays of the evening sun.
One important note: None of this actually happened.
Venture deep into the woods with Mike as he hunts down the elusive Jeff Daniels comedy “Escanaba in da Moonlight”.
Set sail with Mike and his roommate Sara as they navigate the treacherous waters of “Ice Pirates”. Technically, the film is set in space. But these minor details are overshadowed by fighting, yelling, beer spilling and more fighting. File this episode under “heart warmers”.
Mike gears up for a weekend road trip to Tyler Perry Land and his drinking buddy Bella is riding shotgun. Together, they explore the vast wilderness of love, marriage and Janet Jackson. Along the way, they encounter internet sluts, blood-red booze and a better name for underwear. Then Bella speaks Russian.