Secretly a Rocketship
"Every tree is secretly a rocketship." The old man's voice was raspy and wobbly, like a drunk wearing corduroy. "They're just waiting for the celeshul alignment to blast off."
I don't usually engage with the crazies, but my train was delayed and there was no one else to talk to on the empty, late-night platform. I squatted down in front of him, put a crumpled dollar bill in his cup. "What about turning carbon dioxide into oxygen?"
He snorted. "Keeping their engines topped off."
"Yeah? Who?"
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"The ants, stupid. Who else could fit?" I didn't mention the thousands of other insect species he could irrationally suspect. "They get in everything. Houses, food, hair. Out to get us."
I rolled my eyes and stretched. The platform was still empty. I leaned forward close. "Those aren't the only things they've infiltrated." Then I poured out of my skin, all of me, and swarmed over him. Couldn't let him keep talking like that.
Someone might listen.
The End
This story was first published on Thursday, May 25th, 2017
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Secretly a Rocketship by
Peter A Schaefer.
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