THURSDAY ONLY! BIG SALE ON QUESTION MARKS!
by Matthew Sanborn Smith
The actors, what were they doing when they sparked like that? Was it all up to them? Or were they controlled by that hideous acting bug? What about the writers and the writing bug? And the accountants and the accounting bug? What if some evil person who got bitten by the evil-doing bug, sprayed all the various bugs with insecticide? Would all the passion die then?
Are we all just slaves to our bugs? Is my love for Yara just the Yara bug scrambling up my unsuspecting pant leg? How many crunchy little exoskeletons had I stepped in this long/short life of mine? How many thoraxes sent squirting through abdomens? Did I crush a dream with each stomp? Is that why there are so many miserable people in the world? Because people are so afraid of bugs? Because people are so afraid of passions that they step on them at the slightest movement?