Playt's Thoughts #10: Playt's Flickering

Have you ever met someone who is bipolar? I personally have met half a dozen at least. If the whole world was bipolar, society would be very much different. Me though, I'm neither bipolar nor normal. I am what you call fivepolar.

If this planet had five poles instead of only two, the orbit and time of the planet would change. There would be no measurement for time because it would be too erratic. It would be seen as random, and the words minute and second would not exist.

If time were random, then how would I know when I wrote this story? How would anyone be able to tell me a full sentence if they weren't sure when I would hear it, or even if I would ever hear it at all. A picture or a man-made reminder would be utterly pointless, because there would be no way of knowing what creature or being may see it in the next second. Communication would be useless.

Useless. This word I know very well. The bird says Little birdy, Little birdy, come here let me eat you up, and the bird says, Hell no, go away, fuck off you stupid cat. Useless is a word which means something, yet I'm not quite sure what. I don't know much anymore, but I do know one thing, and I guess that makes me pretty stupid. And that's all I know for now, all thought other than that has left me.

A doorway appears in front of me. What when am I in? A goofy kid with four horns and his round headed friend walk out of the door carrying Lysandus. How do I know Lysandus? Lysandus is dead, and I'm supposed to fix him. I must preform the ritual of burning playts. I may not survive this time, but my time is random.

And then I'm here. In the middle of the room, sitting on my table. I ask myself why and how I got here. Is this before or after I die? Have a shattered yet? Have my ceramic fragments flickered in the moonlight? Then I have a memory. But what is this memory? Why is it haunting me? I don't remember.

In the memory I could see a horse. This horse has been through hell. This horse will never be the same as before. The horse has no eyeballs and it's throat is hanging down from its neck. It talks through it's neck, and tells me about a ship. I must sail to a new place. I must leave my trailer of sporks and venture into a new world. A world of rationality crawling around like lotus ninjas. How can I survive in such a sane world. There is only one way to remain a playt through this. I must make everyone I meet completely insane.

I'm back from my journeys and ready to start writing about Playt's Thoughts. When I am finished with my thoughts, I will leave for the first time and explore a place other than Sporkson, my trailer park. I will see the world. After that who knows, I might sit down and write about my thoughts, and finally tell you what goes on inside of the mind of Playt.