Ode To A Drama Queen

There was this body of water located 10 minutes past the end of reason that sat and lapped back onto itself as water will do when it has nowhere else to go and the only other alternative is to become stagnant.

Below this body of water located ten minutes past the end of reason sat a dry, snaking tract of land. Just a strip of uninhabitable, cracked ground that meandered along between jutting rocks and the occasional plateau of equally dry, cracked earth.

A riverbed with no river beneath a river that had forgotten what it was until it became a lake instead.

Between the lake that once was a river and the bed that once led the river was a dam. The dam had separated the two entities for so long that there was no memory of who or what erected that fine structure. The only thing that could be told of that dam was that it must have been constructed of the finest materials by the most skilled hands of a master craftsman that it could stand up to so much water for so long.

Time has a way of changing things though. After all, even the Sphinx lost it's nose to time.

One day the water found it's way to seep through a tiny space in the wall of that dam. One drop of water slid down the dry face of that dam like a tear to find the dry ground below. That ground below could have jumped (if jumping were possible) at the very strange but very familiar sensation of water on its surface. In fact even as that drop was joined by others, the ground didn't quite know what to do with that water. So for a time the water pooled on the dry, cracked ground until it did insinuate itself (as water that unstoppable force will do) into a crack and somewhat softened that hard earth.

The water continued creeping until two drops could squeeze through that little hole at that same time. That little hole in the dam groaned as a crack showed on its face. Soon more cracks appeared; growing and traveling until running into each other. The water kept pushing at the dam, following a long forgotten instinct to move forward. With a roar, the water tore through the dam as a scared child might run through cob webs in the haunted house at the carnival.

The water surged over the riverbed gouging slices into it's softened surface (by all accounts the riverbed was pretty wet at that time). The water was liberated but lost. It was tumbling over itself throwing parts of dam away as it moved. You might be inclined to compare it to a train speeding over tracks on the express run. You would be wrong at this point, as the train and tracks work together in a set rhythm for maximum efficiency while the water took no heed of what it was riding over. No, you would be better to compare the water to the emotional release from a here to now repressed lover experiencing an earth shattering orgasm.

Had the water taken the time to notice the riverbed, it might have taken the time to ask for directions. As it was, once the water did begin to slow it had the look of a puppy after digging itself out of the yard. "I'm out! I'm free! What now?"

The riverbed (although ravaged by the torrent of water) wasn't holding a grudge, although it would well have been justified in doing so! Instead it gave the water directions: take a left, followed by two rights and when you get to the fork up ahead be prepared to do battle against it with your spoon.

The bed would guide the water which carried the bed.

The water was no longer just water and the bed was no longer just a bed. They were in fact now a river. Together they conversed and eventually answered almost all of life's unexplained mysteries.

The only question left was what to do with the twig stuck in the eddy halfway up the river.
Was the twig to be left in the relative safety of the swirling prison, or was it to be flicked out and sent on to the fork ahead where armed with a spoon it could make its own destiny?