I am 34.259.463.51. I come before 34.259.463.52, but after 34.259.463.50.

No identifiable marks, tattoos or scars.

Short dark hair. 5'9" to 5'11". White. Blue Eyes. Male.

Watches sports, music channels, animated TV shows, and Buffy.

Crimson and clover. Over and over.

There are times when subject is lost in the spaciousness of the sky, staring for long moments at clouds which move at the speed of snails.

From the top of the sky, everything is really far away and it's kind of hard to read the street signs so usually we go fuckin' fast and hope the cops haven't perfected the use of eating utensils and twine and Krazy Glue to make a spaceship motor.

She smiled, because he was talking about the spaceship again. "When are we gonna fly away, Billy?"

"Just as soon as we're able, I reckon, Billie," Billy smirked back, inches from her lips.

Billy worked like a jackhammer and had that makeshift spaceship motor up and running by dawn. Billie, not blessed with the knowledge of spaceship motor construction, wrote a couple of letters to relatives, read a third of a trashy novel, retired to the bedroom, returned an hour later, fell asleep on the back seat of a Ford Chaka Khan 4-door sedan ripped out of its former home only hours earlier in a search for a couch.

The thing about ants is that they're tenacious.

Looking into someone's eyes and seeing nothing but the back of the room is discouraging. At least that's what everyone tells me.

I have large hands and feet for my body. I compensate by not using that finger hole thing on baseball gloves.

The meeting of the minds began with the call of the mind muse, who was sleeping in the back of the room. It had been a rough night. Some two-bit screenwriter out of Austin was in town and in desperate need of inspiration. The minds were aflutter at this meeting. Someone had discovered the truth. Someone knew all about eating utensils and twine and Krazy Glue. And they were gonna succeed! It was just like that time when the minds tried to be the first men to fly around the world in a balloon without landing and they'd been blown off-course and landed on the set of a Tom Hanks movie where he was trying to use an extraordinary event to underscore the fact that sometimes life has nimble twists and turns that might mess a person up...

...what the fuck was I talking about?

You said that Material Girl was about being a whore of the recording industry, but that, ah, Ray of Light was about being impregnated by God.

Which one was Ray of Light?

The one where Madonna dances at a rave wearing a wife beater shirt and no bra.

Oh yeah.

We're gonna need three for each of us. Six total. We need half a dozen. OK, just bring the bucket.

No, for each of us. Three. Bring me three. Six all in all.

Sometimes I feel like there's no one who goes all the way out here except me. And then I see the imprint of someone else's hiking boot.

And then I look around with a more discriminating eye and realize that millions of people have been here before me and there's a line of people behind me that goes all the way to the ocean.

I am 34.259.463.51. I come before 34.259.463.52, but after 34.259.463.50.

Matt Worley pulled a rabbit out of his hat on the first try.