THE UNIVERSE, TAKE TWO
by Matthew Sanborn Smith
The Universe, for some strange reason, had turned into a blank white board, stretching into infinity. Donny floated alone in the vast nothingness beside it with twenty-seven billion and three dry-erase markers.
He grabbed the closest marker and drew a woman to keep him company. Although he was no great artist, he could do better than stick figures. He took his time, because he seemed to have no pressing engagements. He used quite a few different colors, and tried to make her as realistic as possible. When he was finished, he floated back a bit and waited.
Talk about disappointment. He'd just assumed she would come to life, like that kid's drawings in the books and cartoons. You know, his name was Simon? And the things he drew came true? But she just sat there. He even named her Melanie, but that didn't seem to help. Sure, it was a crazy idea, but look at how the day had gone so far.
Donny had to face it: the Universe had become a white board and only a white board. Nothing magical about it. He couldn't recreate the human race or draw a firetruck that he could actually drive. He couldn't even keep himself company. He looked around, as far as he could see. There was no one. He was utterly alone. There was no one around and no one to ever be around.
Finally convinced, he gave Melanie much bigger boobies.