by Robert Buswell
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\nSylvia has her head stuck in the oven again. \u201cDon\u2019t try to stop me,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t worry, we won\u2019t,\u201d says Emily. \u201cAlthough it\u2019s rather difficult to attend to this kidney with you in the way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy dry your kidney?\u201d asks Robert. \u201cAnd is it safe to have a burner lit with all the gas in here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have this theory,\u201d says Emily. \u201cI propose that when almost dry the human kidney will assume a certain plasticity, a pliability. When my kidney is leeched of just the proper amount of moisture it will resemble modeling clay. Then I can use it to make beautiful sculptures.\u201d<\/p>\n
Anne laughs. \u201cOr you could package it in little yellow tubs and sell it to children. It would be all the rage.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d rather keep it, thank you,\u201d Emily says.<\/p>\n
\u201cSuit yourself,\u201d Anne replies. She nudges Sylvia with the toe of her shoe. \u201cSylvie, be a dear and make room for me in there.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sylvia jumps, hitting her head. \u201cDamn, woman! I was almost there. Quit interrupting me. Go find a car or something, will you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, you\u2019re no fun,\u201d Anne says. She looks over at me. \u201cWhat\u2019s your story?\u201d<\/p>\n
Robert glances at me. \u201cYeah, I\u2019ve been wondering the same thing. You think you have a right to be here just because we share the same first name? I won the goddamned Pulitzer Prize. Four times, Kid. Four times. What have you done?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t won anything, but I do need some help,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what help do you suppose you\u2019ll find sitting at my kitchen table?\u201d Sylvia mumbles from inside the stove.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m trying to build an accurate three-dimensional tesseract and then unfold it into the fourth dimension,\u201d I tell them. \u201cAlthough I\u2019m not sure that a roomful of poets will be much help.\u201d<\/p>\n
Robert laughs, then grimaces and clutches his groin. \u201cThis damned prostate is going to kill me. Listen; don\u2019t think that my poetic ability precludes any scientific knowledge. You think that just because I deal mostly with rural themes that I\u2019m some hillbilly hick?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, of course not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t patronize me, Boy. You\u2019ve got some nerve coming in here and telling me that I\u2019m some two-bit bumpkin.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily turns from the stove. \u201cHush, Robert,\u201d she says. \u201cIt\u2019s ready.\u201d She holds out the kidney.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat will you make?\u201d Anne asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cA beautiful lady,\u201d Emily replies. \u201cThen I\u2019ll cover her with flour so she\u2019ll be white and hide her in the cupboard.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait,\u201d I say. \u201cMaybe we can use it to make the tesseract.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Emily says, closing her hands over it. \u201cA tesseract is only a fleeting beauty and when unfolded we may find that parts have disappeared into another dimension. I\u2019d rather the kidney stay preserved in the cupboard forever. In one piece. In one place.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t be stupid, Emily,\u201d Anne says, grabbing the kidney. \u201cThis guy\u2019s right. A hypercube would be much more artistic than some flour-covered doll.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust let her keep it,\u201d Robert says. \u201cWe can use my prostate instead. Come here, Boy. Take this knife and do a little surgery on me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNonsense,\u201d Anne says. \u201cThis organ already has a perfect consistency for modeling. No sense in fishing another out of your posterior when Emily has generously agreed to let us use hers.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily lunges for the kidney, but Anne knocks her down. She leans close to Emily\u2019s face. \u201cLady, I\u2019m not the one you wanna mess with, see? I\u2019ll strike you so hard that all you\u2019ll hear is a fly buzzing around your head.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily looks down. \u201cI guess you\u2019re right. Let\u2019s build a tesseract.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s much better,\u201d Anne says, smiling. \u201cSylvia, get up and help us build, won\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sylvia doesn\u2019t move. Anne kicks her and she slumps out onto the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cStand back and I\u2019ll give her CPR,\u201d Anne sighs.<\/p>\n
Sylvia starts coughing. \u201cYou don\u2019t need to. I\u2019m not there yet. Just let me finish, will you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRelax, Sylvie. You can finish up with that on Sunday, can\u2019t you? You have guests today.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sylvia brightens. \u201cYes, I\u2019m not expecting anyone over on Sunday. That might be a better day anyway, seeing as it should be rather bleak.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGood, it\u2019s settled then,\u201d Robert says. \u201cWhy don\u2019t we go down to the park to build this thing? I know it\u2019s late and snowy, but the woods might be an inspiring place.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sylvia smiles. \u201cRobert, that\u2019s just the thing. I\u2019ll pack a nice picnic and we\u2019ll all go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo can do, my friends,\u201d Emily says, shuddering. \u201cI\u2019m not too fond of snow or woods or evening.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo get over it,\u201d Sylvia says, stocking a hamper with food and silverware.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t and I won\u2019t,\u201d says Emily. \u201cYou may all go without me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, why don\u2019t we have the picnic right here?\u201d I ask. \u201cDespite some of us being rather fond of winter scenery, I\u2019d just as soon stay warm here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSuits me,\u201d Robert replies.<\/p>\n
Anne drops the kidney onto the table. Sylvia presents a charming little meal and we tuck in. \u201cWe\u2019ll start with a cube and go from there,\u201d I tell them through a mouthful of bratwurst.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo for it,\u201d Anne says.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wonder if Emily would be willing to do the honors?\u201d I extend the kidney toward her. \u201cIt is hers, after all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019ll just make a damn doll with it,\u201d Robert says with a scowl. \u201cYou\u2019re giving our artistic medium to the one person who is most likely to misuse it and you have the testicular fortitude to call me an uneducated trailer park dweller?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have never called you anything like that,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, Robert, I will make what we agreed upon,\u201d Emily says. She begins molding the kidney into a cube. \u201cWhat next?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHere\u2019s the part I\u2019m unsure of,\u201d I say, scratching my head. \u201cNow we must extend the cube at right angles to itself until it becomes a three-dimensional simulacrum of the four-dimensional object it will become.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHere, let me see the damn thing,\u201d Robert says. He begins extending it at right angles to itself.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat looks good,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt better. You don\u2019t win the accolades I\u2019ve won without learning a thing or two about sculpting.\u201d<\/p>\n
I watch as he completes the tesseract and smoothes down the rough edges.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow how do we unfold it?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou got me there,\u201d Robert says, carefully lying the structure down on Sylvia\u2019s table.<\/p>\n
We all stare at the tesseract. Finally, Sylvia jumps up.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got it!\u201d she shouts. \u201cWe\u2019ll fill the interior with gas. Gas expands. The gas will force the tesseract to expand outwards into the fourth dimension.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait. Is the fourth dimension even real?\u201d Emily asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think we\u2019re about to find out,\u201d Anne says. She digs around in Sylvia\u2019s kitchen drawers until she finds a long rubber tube. She places one end of the tube over the oven\u2019s gas nozzle and inserts the other end into the tesseract.<\/p>\n
\u201cWould any of you like to read a poem I just wrote about this experience?\u201d Emily asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cI would,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
She hands me a sheet of paper:<\/p>\n
We who wait \u2013 patiently as it were \u201cSo you believe our efforts futile?\u201d I say, handing it back to her.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course not. But it has nice despairing poetic feel, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt does indeed,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n \u201cFeels more like an unhealthy obsession with dying to me,\u201d Robert says.<\/p>\n \u201cNever mind him,\u201d I tell Emily. \u201cIt\u2019s wonderful.\u201d<\/p>\n We fall silent and watch the tesseract.<\/p>\n And we wait. by Robert Buswell Sylvia has her head stuck in the oven again. \u201cDon\u2019t try to stop me,\u201d she says. \u201cDon\u2019t worry, we won\u2019t,\u201d says Emily. \u201cAlthough it\u2019s rather difficult to attend to this kidney with you in the way.\u201d \u201cWhy … Continue reading
\n<\/span>all \u2013 Strive to expand a
\ntesseract in Vain \u2013
\nbefore Death \u2013 o\u2019ertakes
\nand Light \u2013 fading \u2013<\/p>\n
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\nROBERT BUSWELL<\/strong> is a world-renowned operatic singer, although he receives little attention in his home country of Burundi. His vocal range has been mentioned by critics as \u201cTruly something which must be experienced in person.\u201d He repaints cathedrals in garish hues in his off time and is currently wanted by federal authorities in Italy and France. He ardently admires and inefficiently emulates his idol, Australian Timothy Minchin,although the feeling is mutual. He drives a Dodge Tomahawk and lives in Wyoming.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"