About This:
Shecky only lived for about 3 weeks. In the 1,814,400 seconds of his conscious existence, in this particular reality, he spent each and every one in fear, pain, and paranoia. During the luminous hours he would crouch down and constrict every appendage inhis scrawny body, balling up to hide himself from the unforeseen impending horrors of this world he was imprisoned in. But at night, when all potential harm might overlook him in the shadows, he could climb to the top of his cage and stretch himself as wide as his bony sinews would allow. Wrapping his skeleton digits through the metallic crevices in a crucifixion ceremony, he slept. Sleeping is what he did best when he wasn't convulsing with the shakes, for it was during this other unconscious reality that he could dream. Once his tiny neck muscles gave way and his head wilted between his out stretched limbs, Shecky became King, God...Omnipotent. He could fly, breathe water, split atoms, contract cancer then cured himself depending on how creative he wasfeeling that evening. He dreamt of colors and candies, chocolates and rivers of shinny precious gems. He could hear laughter and screams of children having fun on the carousel and other rides in the imaginary festival he lived in every night. He dreamed of fried dough, pierogies, fresh sausages, and homemade baked pies. He dreamt with such a vengeance, praying that one night he would become one of those pies that brought such joy to so many. One morning he was gone. His withered carcass swung gently fromthe breeze through the top of his former prison. You know, it's hard for me to eat pie anymore without thinking about Shecky. When I do though, just one thought comes to mind......Yummy.