What Happens in Amazia Stays in Amazia

Joseph popped a marshmallow in his mouth as his space-car docked elegantly to the shiny space port of Amazia.

"Ah, my two favorite things," he said with a grin. "Sugary snacks and docking!"

And with that he pulled away, guiltily looking over his shoulder, stuffing his mouth so full of candy that drool leaked from each corner. If he could have said anything intelligible, he would have congratulated his partner sitting beside him. He couldn't have done it without him.

After all, his partner had given him the candy. And HE LOVED CANDY. Maybe... a little too much...

Just then, a chair stood up and transformed itself into a water cooler. “Shapeshifting aliens... Can’t trust em” Joe thought to himself. He felt a sudden sugar rush.

Then he turned in to a golf ball.

Unfortunately he had landed at the water's edge just shy of where the alligators convene. Just then a soft wind blew and he, as round objects tend to do, began rolling toward the shore.

As he rolled, ever so slowly, across the gentle waves towards the alligators on the beach, he began to pick up on their heated conversation. The alligators were arguing. About what, though? He listened more closely.

“Pragmatism is a cop out!” yelled one alligator, “If you ignore cogito, you might as well be a modernist!” The other alligator roared: “Aha! Spoken like a true solipsist! We’re communicating, aren’t we?” “Hardly, I’d say!” He stepped quietly on the sand to avoid getting involved.

Then both alligators turned into golf balls.

And there we have it. Two scaly green golf balls, who used to be reptiles, who used to be ex-cons, who used to be someone’s kid. If you squint at the dimpled surfaces you can just begin to imagine the crimes they committed.

And begin to dream of your own golf ball crimes that may yet come to pass.