OUR ORAL FIXATIONS, FOILED ONCE MORE
by Matthew Sanborn Smith
The ships flew in so thick and so tight they scraped the paint off of one another’s hulls. Paint chips sprinkled down upon the peoples of the Earth. Once the sun emerged from the Naval eclipse, everyone looked so sparkly and beautiful and toxic. It kept us from licking each other, that’s for sure. So in the end, the empire got what it wanted, didn’t it? And without a shot fired.