I Knew A Woman With a Black Hole In Her
By Joel Haas
I knew a woman with a black hole in her.
She couldn’t help it. She was where it was –or it was where she was. She took in all the light. It flowed to her as sure as moths –and she took in the odd moth, too, if it followed the light. The black hole made her do it and she was powerless against it. People scorned her saying she had no self-control, no power over herself.
Yet, she never grew heavy.
One day, she just suddenly caved in on herself and BAM! She was sucked into the black hole, taking a few pigeons, a bag of toast crumbs, and the park bench she was sitting on. Only the black hole remained –odd how you can have an infinite nothing weighing an infinite amount.
Nobody noticed.
Every one of her atoms was chopped up like North Carolina BBQ –only finer –and she was spun out 120 million light years away.
There, her atoms, along with the pigeons’ atoms, the bag of toast crumbs’ atoms, and the park bench atoms burned very brightly in a star. Finally, the star became a red giant and collapsed upon itself, becoming a black hole.
Every one of the star’s atoms was chopped up like North Carolina BBQ –only finer –and spun across 120 million light years where they formed into a woman sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons toast crumbs
“Another dizzy spell,” the woman muttered.
“Happens all the time,” the pigeon thought, cocking its head quizzically. “Nothing to get excited about. Now toss me those toast crumbs before it happens again.”
The End
