The Monster Baby Homunculus from the Moon

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Nobody knew the moon was pregnant until the tides began behaving strangely.

One Tuesday in November, the Pacific Ocean climbed into a telephone booth in Oregon and made a long-distance call to Nebraska.

The ocean asked for a doctor.

Unfortunately, the doctor had died in 1937, and his telephone was now being used by a family of mice who believed themselves to be the descendants of Napoleon.

Meanwhile, on the dark side of the moon, something was being born.

It was a monster baby homunculus, assembled from the unfinished dreams of people who had died before remembering what they were supposed to do.

He had seven fingers, three elbows, and the philosophical disposition of a boiled potato.

His mother was a crater.

His father was an astronomical misunderstanding.

The baby weighed approximately eleven pounds, although weight was a difficult concept on the moon, where everything was perpetually trying to leave.

They named him Harold.

Harold’s first word was tomorrow.

This frightened the moon because tomorrow had never existed there before.