Title: The Big Brain on Todd

Logged: 24 Sep 15 (Thursday in the PM)

Copyright:

Time: 2 minutes

Replies: 0

Revisions: 3

Publicity: Workshop

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Todd was thinking again. He was in his favorite thinking spot, sitting below a large oak in the sandy part of the forest.

Lately, Todd’s mind had been a bowl of cold mush. He thought it due possibly to his new line of work as a living mannequin, a job he picked up while learning the mime trade. It was a thankless occupation for the most part, though the occasional shopper did commend him on his ability to stand still and wear clothes. After work, he’d gotten in the habit of laying on the couch and sipping the toothpaste-infused water at the bottom of his toothbrush cup, just to dull the only thought anchored to his mind – that his life was at a standstill.

Mime school was more difficult than Todd had imagined. He thought his mannequin experience would have helped him, but it really only related to a short unit in his Intro class on living statuism. He was having issues in Movement, especially with feeling the invisible wall. Professor Glass remarked that he didn’t find Todd’s wall believable.

The truth was that Todd didn’t believe in it himself.

After a few weeks, Todd decided to get out of his rut. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be a mime or a mannequin. Maybe Todd was meant to be a man. He went to his thinking spot and sat there with chin upon fist until the blankness of his mind disappeared within a forming cloud. It came slowly from the periphery of his skull, a fog from a haze from an ether filling the hollow of his mind. Before long, Todd recognized words and images forming from the cloud, first randomly and of no discernible order or context – iridium, meatballs, Datsuns, cereal, LSD.

But soon, as all children do, Todd began to make sense of the world around him. He began to see patterns, to grasp concepts, to apply techniques. In time, Todd was able to sustain deep thought, of this that and the other thing. He pondered the rhythm of a stampede of wildebeests across the savannah, the line created by the flight of a bumblebee, the sound of speech unimpeded by language. He became ambitious, eager to use the dormant part of his brain to memorize the names of all the dead people who’d ever lived, to delineate the history of an imagined past, to invent the finest soup ever slurped by human face.

Occasionally, an acorn would fall to one side or the other of Todd, inspiring him to create a set of equations that would ultimately prove that mathematics can’t prove anything.

Todd’s brain was back.

It was right where he’d left it.

Revisions

Bear » Authorship
Bear » 9:35 AM 12 Aug 18
Bear » 8:43 PM 04 Aug 17
Elk » 11:12 PM 28 Jul 17

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