Subject: Bingle cheered up at that. At least, he did in a relative sense.
Posted on: 2017-02-17 13:07:55 UTC

He felt, somewhat, like he was being pitied. He felt, too, what with all the lingering guilt in his head, that this was somewhat deserved. What a very old person thing to do, that was, being pitied. Bingle didn't usually think of himself as 'old.' He always felt that the aging process was the kind of thing that officially stopped with your heartbeat. You never see people bringing birthday cakes to graveyards, anyhow. And if you did, it was always promptly followed by the sounds of sirens, and groups of men in white coats who work in places with padded walls. Bingle was feeling rather old. Perhaps he should have stayed at home. Read a book, ate some popcorn. Dead men didn't read books and eat popcorn but, then, neither did old people.

'No, reality isn't very fond of that kind of thing. It is both elastic, and very unhappy that it is elastic, you know.' He scoffed, faintly. 'You'd never imagine how it reacts, when someone snaps it. Terrible, very terrible, for everyone involved. And the bystanders and people on the other sides of the street, and a few other people who happened to be unlucky.'

He looked up. 'Now, generally speaking, plane folding involves the manipulating of. Well. Planes. The planes that make up everything are, when you look at them in quite the right way, flat. Flat, much like paper. It may be folded, too, much like paper. I knew a fellow who folded a ship into a crane.' He smiled at the memory. 'It flapped its wings when you pulled its tail and blew its horn when you pressed its head.'

'I do have books on the subject I am more than willing to lend, but, ah.' He smiled and shrugged. He didn't think this topic liked him very much. 'What do you do, Miss Nalleb?'

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