Welcome to Em's End: They Never Come Down

They're up there all right, in every seam and crevice, edging as high as possible, hard up against the ceiling. I could sit here all day and never, not once, not ever, see them come down.

There's never any noticeable activity, and so it's easy to forget they're even there. But, they are, living their lives day-in and day-out. They weave their silken homes, spin their silken traps, wrap their babes in silken swaddling, and somehow, never miss a meal.

I've been told they eat others of their kind, but you'd think with that kind of diet, populations would soon decline. But they don't. I can tell from the number of cozy abodes up there that no one is going hungry. So if they aren't eating each other, just what do they serve for dinner? It's a puzzle to me, because just as they never come down, food never goes up.

So where is the supermarket? It must be mightily miniature. It's doubtful it could even be seen with a magnifying glass. But, like I said, it must be there. Population growth proves it.

A total enigma, all around.

Now, being the cold and callous giant I am, I could easily take my duster

and destroy their entire infrastructure in one fatally swift sweep.

You'd think that if I did, there'd be a melee of scurrying bodies, all running in terror from the devastation that has descended upon them.

But, no. There will be no mass exodus.

They'll just hide in the cracks and crevices that are too small for me to see, wait out the disaster, and when it has passed they'll come out to start reconstruction.

They'll soon have a thriving cosmos again.

Custom homes with endless views of pristine white; perfectly w

all-scaped yards that never need a trim; small-ways, highways and byways (that never evidence use); all will be rebuilt, even those miniscule markets.

I wonder just what goes on up there. Their economy is never in peril; neighbors are never seen gabbing across the fence or sharing a cup of tea, but you know they must.

There's no need for visas and passports;

no bor

der guards; no customs to pass;

no suitcases to pack;

just take that untraveled small-way and go where you please. That is, of course, if you don't mind visiting your neighbor's pantry too.

But who would worry about this one, sole insignificant travel warning?

What a cozy little place. The summers are always cool. The winters are always warm. Pollution is unknown to them. Their stock markets never crash, just an occasional abode that has grown to weighty for its lofty perch.

There are no corporate ladders to climb;

no invading conquerors; no oppresive dictators;

and no ri

diculous election campaigns.

There are no spammers, yammers, or scammers; no taxes, no levies; no fines; and no fees.

No one hides from paparazzi

and no one fears the terrorist.

There is no crime and so, no need for lawyers. Justice is swift and final. If thy neighbor offends thee, add him to thy pantry.

There are no freak storms; no power outages or insane utility bills; no droughts; no floods; volcanoes, earthquakes, or tsunamis; no natural disasters at all, save one, my duster.

The young are always raised with the greatest of care and deepest respect.

Children are never buckled in and driven into a lake; never have their mouths duct-taped while their still living bodies are tossed into a pool.

Students don't take hand guns to school.

And teachers don't have illicit affairs with their students. In fact, there's no need for school at all. Education is left to Mom.

Dad never comes home drunk. In fact, Dad never comes home at all. What self-respecting dad would? He's already done his part in creating the next generation. And if he did come home, well, he'd be treated just like a visitor, and be led straight away to the pantry.

Drugs are not illegal. Taking them is totally your choice.