AZMC


Forward:


There are many ways I could tell this story, some of which, no doubt, would form a scene in reader's minds more accurate to what truly occured during the Cleveland Crisis. However, I do not think there is any way I could write this so somebody could understand all of it, or so that everybody could understand some of it. What I decided to go with was a compromise; some people will know - and, more importantly, feel - what I have tried to say some of the time. Yes, in this case, giving the reader (or, rather, helping them to form) an emotionally proper environment is far more important than giving them all the facts. I believe this the best I can do when it comes to putting the Cleveland Crisis on paper. I just hope this doesn't become my best-selling work, since I take greater pride and enjoyment in writing fiction. I may be an unorthodox writer, but even I could not hope to fully capture this story. The Cleveland Crisis was truly a unique event in our Multiverse, and there was simply special about it.

*I could be wrong now*
*But I don't think so*
*Cause it's a jungle out there*
*It's a jungle out there*


Prologue:


"Really? Solar energy is a devil's plan, you know." Chris Mitchells said as he pointed his finger, onto which a glob of filling from the jelly donut in his mouth fell. "I mean, our Sun is supposed to burn for billion of years. But if we keep purloining His Fatherly Rays, we'll take all His charge, and then how long do you think we would have before we freeze? Oh, and Shelly brought in some fancy donuts. They're in the conference room, they're good, and they're going fast."

Marquis Cortez did not appreciate being on the receiving end of a remark so ignorant. He wanted to tell his boss to fuck himself, but had a short list of reasons not to. First, such action might result in discipline. Second, Chris was not cruel or mean, simply clueless and moronic. Marquis barely valued his job at Midwest Cosmetics, but what could he do? Racism and poverty had not given any of his ancestors an easy time, so there should be no difference with him. It would be the same forever! Generations of scraping by, and the worst part is people would never stop telling them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. At least Chris, the cheery man, is having a good time, thought Marquis.

"Life is like a book sometimes..." Chris casually mumbled. "Isn't life like a book sometimes? I claim, man, that you would be the main character. The MC! Mr. Cleveland, they'd say. There's donuts in the conference room, by the way." He puncuated the end of his speech by banging on the steel table displaying a glass-laminated map of Cleveland, Ohio.

"Yeah, me too, thanks." Marquis delivered soullessly, adjusting himself in his chair. He heard Chris make a shrill inhale, but he didn't know it was in response to seeing a bump in the carpet.

"Anytime, my colleague!" Chris whooped and began walking away, turning to deliver one final thought with a double finger snap. "Donuts!"

Alone, thought Marquis. At the right times, of which this was one, it was better to be alone. He leaned back in his chair...

Now, imagine this scene. Go further than just knowing what's happening, and understanding the importance of it. You have to truly feel this occurance. You cannot love what AZMC stands for (Absurdity, Zanity, Madness, Cleveland) without loving what MC stands for (Major Coincedence) and you have to remember: A through Z and the MC. So now...

Bump.
Crash.
Slice.

The Chair. The Carpet. The Cortez. The Cleveland.
Moving Chair. Messed up Carpet. Marquis Cortez. Map of Cleveland.

Marquis Cortez was leaning back
A carpet bump the wheel did smack
The impact threw him off the chair
And sent him flying through the air

He hit the table with his head
The corner cut him and he bled
His resting place would be the floor
Where he'd lay just a moment more

...

...It was just right. There are indeed those who attribute his accident to divine intervention, or the Multiverse finding a way to 'protect itself', whatever that means, but, no, and just to drive the point home...

Marquis pushed back a bit in his chair. This caused the chair to angle upwards and roll backwards, although only the former was an intended effect. As the chair went back, one of its wheels collided with a wrinkle in the carpet. He thought this was going to send the chair tilting further backwards, which was true, but he was mistaken in assuming it would tilt all the way backwards and fall, instead of eventually balancing itself. The subconscious effort he took to, via lurching forward, counter this foreseen dilemma, was therefore uneccessary and only succeeded in catapulting him off the chair. "Ooooohhoarrrrbbb!" would be the most accurate way to describe the scream he produced while in mid-air. A subtle squint and clenched jaw betrayed his fear as he rapidly approached the table, which, upon contact, took out a good chunk of his head. Finally, he slammed down on the floor in a widening pool of blood.

A portion of Marquis' brain had been cut away. Not just any portion, of course. The specific damage that occured to his head at some point during his accident (perhaps when he was cut by the table, perhaps when he hit the floor, perhaps both) was an equation of massive complexity - down to the cell and down the the atom. It's possible there was no single moment during his fall and laceration responsible for the phenonemon; it could have been a series of events. A gash in the temporal lobe one instant and a shake to the cerebellum the next. Nobody knows or will ever know exactly how it happened, and Marquis' accident will certainly never be repeated in precisely the same fashion ever again throughout the Omniverse.

Marquis did not think, feel, or move for a few seconds. He was stunned to wake up. He rose and the wonder in his eyes grew as the gash in his head healed. He giggled in excitement and grasped for something profound to say, but ended up giving a dry, jubilant roar.

"The powers!" he shouted. "The most incredible powers in existence! I have them."

...and he was right!

*It was a cup of good intentions, a tablespoon of one big mess*
*A dash of overreaction, and I assume you know the rest*
*One little slip, one little slip*
*It was a fusion of confusion with a few confounding things*