god came home with some milk stout and a little x-ray machine from a few calendars from now.

we watched the 'easter eggs' on my borrowed copies of the LOTR stuff while we drained the stout and put together the little pieces of the machine.

She looked good, short-ish dark brown hair, green eyes and turquoise earrings.
"I've been in New Mexico," she told me. "For a week i wore nothing but silver and sand, listening to lizards tell stories and helping some cactuses remember how to walk."
She fiddled with the bottle, picking at the label like a nervous girl at a party. " It is 'cactuses', right? 'Cacti' seems dumb."

"You tell me, darlin', yer god, after all." The single page of instructions was easy to read, but for some reason it required me to lick the ends of each wire before i connected them.

"But I'm not grammar, or diction, or composition. I'm barely a noun" she replied, obviously very pleased with herself.

"Aren't you composition? Aren't you every font?" i asked her, twisting cables and balancing my bottle on the case.

"Every font. Yes," she pondered. " Guess so." She didn't seem too thrilled with that idea, for some reason. We both turned to the TV for Gollum's MTV Award acceptance speech. We were both watching, but not listening.

"Well, fonts are just little pictures of things that we all agree on as being the same thing, right? Letters? To make words, to describe things & converse."

"But a lot of talking doesn't mean something's being said."

"Ain't that the truth. Like people assume humming is music. It ain't always."

Later, after we finished the six-pack, we x-rayed some of my dreams: