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by Lisa Hickerson

Once upon a time there was a tick crawling through the thick short hairs of a monkey that groomed itself while sitting on the branch of a large tree which had grown in the middle of a dense forest located near the southern-most tip of an uncharted island. Actually, this story has nothing to do with the tick crawling along a monkey’s back as he sat grooming himself on the branch of a tree in a forest, which had grown at the southern-most tip of an unknown island. This story is actually about a conversation between two friends as they sit in a dark room at the southwestern end of a small house, in a neighborhood near a large bustling city that is the capitol of a state graced by mountains in the middle of a large continent about 4529.76 meters north of the island, the southern forest, the tree, the monkey, and of course, the tick, whose story will never be told.