Jon the MegalomaniacJon’s megalomania was beginning to reach messianic proportions. His casual speech was truncated into maxims whose profundity, though it existed only as a specter of its potential even in his own mind, he left to his audience to decipher, the success of which was, of course, dependent primarily upon their own abilities as poetic scholars of philosophy. If they were incapable of comprehending his mastery, Jon rested assured that generations later, when his Word was recorded, analyzed, catalogued, and praised by awestruck geniuses in their own right, he would be appreciated. The actual relevance and logic, therefJon the Megalomaniac
He Might be Dead Francis was fairly certain he was dead. The realization had not been a sudden one, but rather a gradual conclusion reached after much deliberation. The fact that Francis could not pinpoint the exact time of his death was no hindrance in his calculations, for he assumed no one could remember their own death, because, well, you were dead. On his little yellow legal pad in thick black ink Francis had organized the basis of his argument. For one, his body was beginning to decompose. His skinHe Might be Dead
