It All Began With LOL.
Abraham Heckersmithley was visited by The Syllable Police.
“You haven’t been using enough,” Officerator Farthingworthershirester told him, handwriting a citationometeristic.
Syllables had been piling up. Conversations lagging and the reliance on the visual leading to unspoken bits and pieces of words clinging to shorelines, blocking off views ofcountrysides, clogging highway exit lanes. And worse, and worse, the noise!
And more, all jumbling together, making it hard to hear what little was said, or harder to hear (for example) the sound of children’s laughter as they made cotton candy from scratch, spinning it the right way, out of songs + puffy white summer clouds + just a pinch of sunlight, rather than woven from hot sugar the way we do it, but, then, what do you expect from a society so unenlightened we do not even realize words have weight and substance, and, too, are part of the fundamental building blocks of reality.
Which is easier to believe: that a quark can help create both supernovae and those kiosks at the mall where they sell you tiny helicopters? Or that parts of words might one day need to be bulldozed into piles, loaded onto rockets, and launched into the sun, just to keep them from burying humanity undera mile-thick layer of
Abrahamish Heckersmithleylonginess later reflecticated on how luckyish he’d been, let off with just a warning and community service, sentencinundated to one thousandousand hours of giving public lectures.
In 250=1, I write stories that are exactly 250 words long, including the title. Here's a list of ALL of them!