Things Not Worn

THINGS NOT WORN

Chapter A: Which Isn’t Which?

         Sunflowers.
         Sunflowers are not typical suspects in a murder.
         “Sunflowers,” said Cal Nesbit. “Sunflowers are not typical suspects in a murder.”
         “Yes they are,” said Hal Nezbit, before punching Cal in the nose and running away. After about a week he completely forgot the entire series of events.

Chapter B: Conspiracy

         Thirty-seven years later, shortly before dusk, Hal Nezbit was walking through the sunflower garden in his backyard. He paused to look at a sunflower. It was about as tall as he, but with considerably more petals and seeds. Hal thought about the seeds.
         There was a great number of seeds. Perhaps each had its own unique personality. No, rather, perhaps none had any personality, but the molecular structure of each was directly proportional to one of a group of lifeforms from another dimensional configuration. No, actually, the same person in many different dimensional configurations. Perhaps Hal himself. But which seed was configured to him as he perceived himself now? No, none of them would be; he was him here and now, not a seed. In different dimensions he was a seed. Or maybe not. Maybe, here and now, he was the entire flower. Each of the seeds was a portal into another reality, held within his mind, but he could not unlock them, he could not travel through them. Not of his own accord. But what if he picked one of the seeds off of the flower? Would that mean, in a different reality, the flower was picking one of his characteristics from him? And since they were one in the same, would anything actually be happening? Would the exchange mutually cancel itself out, or would it shift the entirety of spacetime in an unnoticeable fashion? Would it shift it so that unnoticeable became noticeable? But if that were so, would not their meanings be switched so that the change would still not be perceivable? Or, rather, would the meanings stay the same but the entire perception of everything be changed ever so slightly, so that it would still not be noticed but everything else would remain as it had been before? On the other hand, what if this flower was not him, but someone else? Would he be able to shift their universe without shifting his? Would it still shift his but he wouldn’t notice? Would it shift his and everyone else’s but that person’s, thereby switching that person’s in comparison? Each seed would grow into a new flower--in theory. What did that mean, what did it represent? Perhaps sunflowers are actually grown by the government to drain the soul out of their respective person? Perhaps people are actually grown by the anti-establishment to drain the soul out of their respective sunflower? Perhaps the whole of reality is but a seed on a sunflower, but a grain of thought in a mind of a person represented by a sunflower seed? Sunflower seeds taste good. Salt. Salty. Annoying shells though. You can buy the shellless kind. Perhaps the sunflower representing the universe is actually a five-dimensional depiction on a thirteen-dimensional stone dais? Perhaps branching from the dais are beams of light that represents dimensions, paths, possibilities, realities, fantasies, tastes. Perhaps sunflower seeds are crafts built to traverse these channels? How large of a crew fits in a sunflower seed ship? What kind of metaphysical value do these so-called crew members hold? Would the light from the channels help them see in this darkness?
         Darkness. Darkness. It’s dark. The sunflower looks darker. The sun has gone down. It’s nighttime.
         Hal walked back to his house and tried to open the door. It was locked.
         “Crap,” he said.

Chapter C: Exhibition

         Hal lived in a large mansion with many butlers and other servantoid people. His yard was quite vast as well, thus it had been easy for the butlers and other servantoid people to lose sight of him and, in turn, thought of him, and to further lock the doors at the usual curfew time, ten o’clock, thinking that he, Hal, had come back inside and was asleep or watching television in another room.
         Hal wondered what to do. Nobody was near the door or windows. Would he have to sleep outside? Where outside would he sleep? What kind of sleepish supplies did he have outside?
         He went into the garage. The car was at the shop; the truck was somewhere between here and Nevada with his brother Charles inside; the van was at the bottom of Lake Eerie; the jeep was on the second floor, the keys to which were locked in the Lear Jet, as were the keys to the Lear Jet; and the unicycle had a flat tire. Therefore Hal couldn’t use any of these to travel to a hotel, or (especially in the case of the unicycle) sleep in any of them. However, there was an inflatable cockatiel lying on the floor for no readily apparent reason. Since each of Hal’s six air mattresses were inside of each of his vehicles save the unicycle, this would perhaps suffice as a sleeping surface. In fact, Hal remembered once falling asleep while in his pool on an inflatable macaw and waking up with very few knots in his back, relatively speaking; a cockatiel would likely induce similar results.
         He looked for one of the nine pumps to blow up the cockatiel. One by one he discovered that they were all broken, so he spent three hours blowing it up with his own breath, after which he departed from the garage and headed toward the pool.
         Upon arriving at the pool, he gently placed the inflated cockatiel in the water, and slowly, carefully boarded it. He managed to situate himself so that only his feet were in the water (he had been wearing waterproof shoes anyway, due to a remarkably likely series of events that he forgot after about a week).
         He fell asleep. Three hours later, he fell off the cockatiel and drowned.

Chapter D: Chapter E

         Responsibility.
         Responsibility is tantamount to lucidity.
         “Responsibility,” said Cal Nesbit. “Responsibility is tantamount to lucidity.”
         Then a sunflower seed, caught in the wind, hit him in the eye and half-blinded him. After about a week the seed was removed and planted, but it didn’t grow.