The Exactitude

How cauliflower killed the lawyer

Words: 1,218

Reading Time: 6 minutes

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And that is the precise exactitude which makes it most certain, and abundantly clear, that the purpose of writing is to take the reader on a journey that is the least bit linear and purposefully oblique as to engender the sense that they are merely reading the next sentences of their own thoughts without a preconceived notion of where it began nor any forethought as to where it would go because the reader's ability to maintain a cohesive understanding relies not upon some ethereal thread that an author supposedly weaves between ideas as some sort of guided quilt-like rope map for a bumbling buffoon, no, the reader is an independent mind with an independent will to see their own ideas expressed in words without the need to write anything themself, for that is the reason they are giving up their time to direct their neural energies towards comprehending whatever words, in a grammatically correct form, jut at them from the page, or screen, and which beg them to follow like a hungry cub to a trail of berries, but before they were to guess where the trail leads they become a full grown lion and the trail of berries will have become a trail of entrails spilled from the weakest prey animal in the nearest vicinity which, at least, leads them now to a more protein rich meal of words, though, one might argue that words do not contain protein nor any other nutrients at all, but if that hypothetical arguer had actually read the precisely exactiduded — in a most certain and abundantly clear of ways, no less — then they would have no argument due to the fact that it should have become quite clear that there was no thread that brought them that argumentative thought, and the thought not even being theirs (the thought was me) but there is no one other than they in these words and, no, there will never be a proper transition between ideas because that would contradict the abundantly clear exactitudeness of the most certain and precise of renderings which preceded this run-on sentence - which only now is presented as being self-aware of itself - but if the precision with which that abundantly clear certainty was indeed faulty, by means of an inexact measurement of some sort, then it would have only turned out to be inaccurate (recall the difference between accuracy and precision in observational measurements) because the precision is, in-and-of-itself, the exactitude upon which the certainty stands, although, any argument against its accuracy can certainly hold merit, at least in the court of law, were one to bring enough evidence to the judge and jury, though, the defense team is well prepared to point out the spots of blood on your shirt, shoes, and tie leftover from the trail of entrails that you were unwittingly made to follow in leading up to this unprecedented court case wherein you must prove yourself innocent without knowing the crime you are being prosecuted of, and this very point will bring the jury into an uproarious laughter at your inevitable peril (they are in on the setup) and they applaud as the lead prosecutor points his chewed up pencil to your nose on the stand and asks you how the asshole of the dead little prey animal you ate tasted, and before you can answer you look to see your entire family watching in horror because they did not know that you ate the assholes of dead little prey animals and now that you are being directly examined on the witness stand you have no choice but to truthfully admit you know nothing about anything having to do with the asshole of a dead little prey animal, and this is where you have gone wrong, so as to set up the prosecutor to object to your statement with a lack of foundation and hearsay - you never watched any court room stuff other than Judge Judy so really you feel that it is merely another language being spoken to you - then, all of a sudden, your lawyer stands atop his desk in the hushed horror of the courtroom and shouts, for all to hear, some of the most blatantly absurd lines of logic in a hail marry attempt to convince the jury that the entrails and the blood and the prey animal assholes are all merely the ephemeral constructs in the mind of a 4th dimensional being that has been haphazardly forcing everything within this courtroom into existence as a playful exercise of conscious effort and that if the jury were to find you guilty of these crimes then it would only serve to support the precision of some obscure point - and here your lawyer stops for a moment and coughs suddenly as though he has had a large piece of cauliflower lodged in his wind pipe - and to your delight the judge has started to lean in with a sharp attention while the jury seems to be buying all of it with even the 40-year-old fat dude who had been half-asleep most of the time now is as alert as a man listening to a prophet of God himself, but your lawyer's face is suddenly overcome with utter shock and his skin begins to turn purple amidst his hacking cough from an obstruction blocking air from his lungs because, unbeknownst to him, the 4th dimensional being decided that this would be an interesting way to kill the charlatan, and his collapse from the table landed his skull on a chair side before his voluptuous body thumped to the floor and immediately dislodged the obstruction in his throat that you notice to be cauliflower, and now you’re oddly fixated on how the vegetable is basically white broccoli but it smells really bad when you cook it, but just as you are to become aware of the ultimate revelation of the cauliflower’s secret truth, you wake up — you must have dozed off — right in the middle of your direct examination in the very same court room wherein you quickly glance over the jury to see if they noticed, and they definitely did, and it was not a good look, you were asleep while a lawyer is asking why investigators found dozens of frozen assholes in your freezer days before your arrest, and before considering how the police got a search warrant, you choose, instead, to make the ultimatum with yourself that, if you get through this trial, you will change everything about your life and become a priest, but you are stricken by the odd sermon your dream lawyer made, and the cauliflower that killed him, and how there was a nagging feeling that you were innocent before everything had become the past tense, which scared you because that meant the story had ended in some way — and that you never learned the true meaning of cauliflower — yet, who even were you and how had you gotten framed when there wasn’t even a you to begin with, and - this is the part that struck you as most odd - it all felt like something you had read as some kind of reader, like some kind of run-on sentence. You decide to never mention that part to your therapist, but maybe it would make a good sermon.