In the room, you will see either an easel or an egg.
If it is the easel, you will pick up either a freshly sharpened pencil or a freshly severed pig’s foot and draw the first thing that comes to your mind. If it is the egg, you will either crack it on the wall or carefully sit on top of it.
If it is the freshly sharpened pencil, you will draw either a human hand or a human heart. If it is the freshly severed pig’s foot, you will draw either a red smear or a sunset.
If you crack the egg on the wall, you will either be careful to keep bits of shell from getting into the yolk, or you won’t be careful enough. If you carefully sit on top of it, you will either crush it open, or you won’t.
If you draw the human hand, you will compare it to your own hand and realize that you are not an artist. If you draw the human heart, you will compare it to your own heart and realize that something isn’t right.
If you keep bits of shell from getting into the yolk, you will be satisfied and remember the time your mother taught you how to crack an egg. If bits of shell get into the yolk anyway, you will slowly pick them out.
If you draw the red smear, you will desire to leave the room and wash your hands in hot water. If you draw the sunset, you will step back with the freshly severed pig’s foot in one hand and think about heaven.
If you carefully sit on top of the egg and it doesn’t break, you will think you have discovered a hidden talent. If you carefully sit on top of the egg and it breaks anyway, you will not be surprised.
Russell K. Allen
Russell K. Allen is a cool, responsible man with many skills. Almost too many skills. He is an undergraduate student, studying English. This is his first publication.
Artwork: Tanna Burchinal, “The Body in Fragments.”
Contact: tlburchinal@gmail.com
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 