The Big Bang

Well that sure looked like the end of it. Dinner plates thrown against the kitchen walls and exploding into shards of stardust like something cooked up by that atomic collider reactor whatever those PhD’s were testing just over that ridge. And the sound of it, the deafening echoes of all that wreckage, everything we’ve ever known, escaping our suddenly non-existent atmosphere, howling up and up into the void like an old black and white dustbowl photograph, then silent as a scarecrow roasting in the sun. But all this light, all this blue sky and green fields around us had to come from somewhere, right, somewhere smaller than you’d ever reckon, I bet, and our whole house, and all of the years we spent here could never be reduced to nothing, not actual nothing, not really, not by anybody. Not even those curious little twerps at the big fancy university over there, the ones who look at us all funny whenever we cross paths in town. The ones who just had to try it, had to see what would happen if they pressed the on switch just this once, just one time, just one little nudge, and so now we know, don’t we, now we all know what a beginning really looks like.