Once Upon a Horse Cock

Once upon a time, there was a man who had no imagination. He could not imagine how he had been born. He could not imagine how he had arrived at his "present circumstances." It was completely unimaginable to him that he would die, and that he would then be a thorougly unimaginable nothing. He couldn't really imagine how he could not bring himself to imagine his existence and simultaneously not imagine his future, theoretical (why did he even think theoretical, he wondered and argued on with himself) death or non-existence. He had seen the various aruments. The one that said imagination was not the problem but grammar. Even space and time exhibit curious grammar. Everyone who watches television now knows that things can exist and not-exist at the "same" time, which is of course not the "same" time in the relativistic universe. And there was the argument for nested realities, that someone was imagining his inability to imagine his existence or non-existence...the various mindfuck universes which are such fun to entertain while one is eating one's unimaginative t.v. dinner. Still, he knew enough to know that his wondering was not imagining. He wondered at the paradox that when something ceases to exist, it is most capable of being imagined. Things which exist excite the imagination much less than things which don't exist. He wondered if this said anything about the God business and that queer business with poetry. He wondered but did not imagine. He felt that all his life he had been holding his imagination back, and it felt like holding a horse's cock and choking it off at the moment when the horse was trying to achieve ejaculation. He didn't think this was a very imaginative picture of his life, but he did feel it was a fairly accurate one.