Secretly a Rocketship
by Peter A SchaeferMay 25, 2017
"Every tree is secretly a rocketship." The old man's voice was raspy and wobbly, like a drunk wearing corduroy. "They're just waiting for the celeshul alignment to blast off."
I don't usually engage with the crazies, but my train was delayed and there was no one else to talk to on the empty, late-night platform. I squatted down in front of him, put a crumpled dollar bill in his cup. "What about turning carbon dioxide into oxygen?"
He snorted. "Keeping their engines topped off."
"Yeah? Who?"
"The ants, stupid. Who else could fit?" I didn't mention the thousands of other insect species he could irrationally suspect. "They get in everything. Houses, food, hair. Out to get us."
I rolled my eyes and stretched. The platform was still empty. I leaned forward close. "Those aren't the only things they've infiltrated." Then I poured out of my skin, all of me, and swarmed over him. Couldn't let him keep talking like that.
Someone might listen.
About Peter A Schaefer
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