The B That Was Way Too Damn Big.

Imagine a letter in a book. Some letter. Any letter. B for example.

It sits in its book. This small B seems normal. One day though, it is a little bigger than normal. the next day, larger again, so what? But it grows and grows, crushing the sentence it is in to the sides. Slowly but surely the sentence becomes illegible. Then the page too, is impossible to read around this enormous B. The books binding swells, buckles breaks apart. But the B is still growing. It grows and grows. Bigger than a man, a house. It is towering over the clouds. Bigger, bigger still. It can be seen from space now. It is in space now. It has thrown the earth off its axis, this B, grows and grows and grows, planets, then stars spiral around it. Its mere size consumes the galaxy, it stretches out into the furthest reaches of space. All things are smaller now than this B. Everything in the universe is crushed and squashed and destroyed buy its unstoppable expansion.

Finally, even infinity cannot cope with its incomprehensible giganticality. And space-time fractures, shattered to pieces, implodes into nothingness. The B is everything. And now, nothing.

I have such a bad headache.