There’s a Reason To Life

There’s a reason to life.  I knew that the second I saw it.  Weaved somewhere into those beautiful patches of multi-colored yarn was a message from a very wise and powerful being.  A source of knowledge and beauty so strong that it can only be rivaled by the angry guy across the street with the Cheeto-shaped bald spot who hates cats.

The almighty Jonathan, knower of all things.  Keeper of all sewing needles.  Talker of all words.

The majestic seagull, the Jesus of the sea, visits you in a dream.  “There’s a reason to life,” he pecks into your ear drum in Morse code.  Your ears start to bleed glittery, golden blood.  You are the chosen one.

  In his beak, he carries a scroll.  You unroll it slowly, knowing what it will say all along.  “Jonathan,” some kind of magical ghost whispers to you.  Your body is suddenly shrouded in white robes.  By robes I mean the white, grease-stained shirt from your family picnic and white male briefs, formerly size medium before being stretched into a large last Tuesday when your cousin Eric had to borrow them.

Come, run away with me.  To a place where we can roll around in the flowers and pleasure ourselves with carpet all day.  Please don’t bring your annoying comic books.  We will be busy studying the words that have been tattooed onto our souls with a hammer and chisel made of chocolate.  Happiness.

We’ll break free from the shackles of the English language.  Nothing has to make sense.  If Jonathan tells us that we will feast on garlic eyeball soup with our bare feet for breakfast , then let it be so!

Long life the almighty Jonathan!  There’s a reason to life.

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