Magic Fruit

A single brave blueberry jumped happily out of my cereal bowl onto the dining room carpet. This is not a serious carpet in an Old World sort of way, but it has tough, wiry fabric: don’t want to mess around with it.

Where is the fallen fruit? I examined that rug with an electron microscope — nothing. I rolled on the floor then took off my shirt and looked for a dead blueberry. Forget it. Finally, I tried aerial viewing by swinging upside down on the dining room chandelier. I quit.

A fourth dimension exists. And when you enter it, you’ll find billions of massive piles of assorted items. These are all things lost by human beings over the last 100,000 years: keys, hypodermic needles, sunglasses, wallets, many billions of dollars, babies, purses, playthings, fruit, and more.

You look around and say to yourself: “So this is the astral plane.” You approach a peddler.

” Sir, I am looking for a Cro-Magnon arrowhead. Do you have any?”

“Yes! We have them! Many, many, good sir!”

Then you ask: “I also seek a single blueberry — ”

“No, no, we don’t carry such things. Sorry.” You walk away.

Then he calls out: “Check at one of the higher dimensions!”


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