Dude

George walked up to the kitchen table. He observed his surroundings, glancing slightly at the window he let out a soft sigh. The outside was so beautiful, or was it? He shrugged his shoulders. The view, honestly, had been the same view that it had been for the past few days. He decided to put the thought of the outside world aside. He felt his mouth dry into the form of a slight raisin. He shuddered and walked to the refrigerator. He clasped his hands around the fridge and tugged at the door. Before him, standing right in the depths of the refrigerator was a glass of water. He clasped his hands around the glass and almost immediately, a feeling of cold draped through his body. Motioning through his veins and cooling his system. He felts his body freeze for only about half a second before he felt able to relax again. It seemed that all good things had a consequence on this day. He scuffled over to the table and sat down with his glass sitting in front of him. Ice cold, with water-filled to the brim. The crispness of the after could almost be felt through the other angle of the table. He sighed feeling the cold water flow through his body, he tilted his head back and looked out at the window, and saw the view again. He gazed at the tree and saw that it was in fact at an odd angle. He squinted his eyes to further observed the intricate movement of the branches. A dark shadow overcame him he looked up to see his very annoying roommate Rodrick. Roderick had been his roommate for the past few years. And over the course of the years, he had slowly got less and less annoying. But this depletion in annoyingness took time. And here we are three years later, Rodrick still incredibly annoying. But at least he wasn't as bad as when he first came. Roderick's perspective on the world was a bit strange and a bit too meta for George. But George had come to partially understand it over time. He pointed to the window. "What's that glass?" he said. I made a slight face, my lips pierced into the depths of my skin. "What do you mean glass Roderick, those are fucking trees". I exclaimed. "No" he whined "that thing on the table, the glass" He made a slight hissing noise and brushed his fingers through his hair. I looked at him dumbfounded, my eyes rolled up as I said: "Roderick, it's a glass of water". He curled further into himself and then reached his hands out towards the glass, "yeah" he exclaimed, "but how?!". "How what?!" I replied cooly. "How did the water.. get in the glass". I sighed as I told him that again, it was just water in a glass. Just like anything, the water simply went into the glass. When I tell you that he could not fathom neither the idea nor the concept of water going into a cup, I am not kidding. It was rather unfortunate to realize that he couldn't comprehend this fact. It was around twelve o clock when we started this conversation, and it had the unfortunate result of continuing on for two hours. You see the problem was, I (being George) was so comfortable in my position on the chair that tI had not. wanted to get up. I had hoped from within the depths of my heart that Broderick would understand the concept. But he continued asking the same questions over and over again. some geniuses would say that this is a good indication of a broad range of curiosity about the real world. I would argue to the contrary, I don't really care if you are a genius or if you are not. If you ask the same question over and over again it's just plain annoying. And right now, George was regressing back into the ultimate annoyingness range. Finally, around 2:00pm he did understand that it was possible for water to go into a cup, he was consumed by the idea that the water had levitated from the table into the cup. Particularly Angry, I slammed my hands on the table and walked over to the table, and grabbed a cup. I tried to pour the water out but nothing was coming out. "Strange," I remarked to myself. I held the pitcher up to my eye and began to move it around in front of me. The water was flowing within the pitcher, but nothing was coming out of it. I looked back over at Roderick and shrugged, dumbfounded. The sucker had a point. And I did in fact leave this situation with the same question: how in fact does water come out of a pitcher? I was unsure of the answer. Perhaps I had never really paid attention before. I had been so sure before, but now all the simple answers of life seemed to collapse around me. I tiled the pitcher over with one last hope that water would in fact come out. But nothing did. I placed the pitcher back in the fridge. Roderick walked up to me and clasped me on the shoulder. "See... " he said to me. Too frustrated to respond I sat back down on the table. Roderick made his own move to sit with me. But as he started sitting down, he pointed back to the window. "Look!" He exclaimed. Having learned my lesson from last time, I looked over to the water and saw that the pitcher had left the refrigerator and was levitating above the countertop. I heard theater slowly trickle into the cup and regressed back into my chair. My shoulders lifted and I sighed... Everything I knew had been a lie. Out of all the people in the world I would have guessed to be right George was the last person. I had truly believed that despite everything I was the smartest. But not about this, about something so simple. I decided to halt my brain a little bit before losing myself to the obscenities of this world. And that's that. The lesson of today: Water is not in fact poured, rather it levitates on its own. Like. the waves that canvas it as it flows between the world, even water in a pitcher is free-thinking. Oh to be like the substance.