The comb-over of understanding

Yesterday, at a meeting with a client, I witnessed a comb-over of the most awesome majesty. As I shook the proud owner’s hand, I found myself completely mesmerised. An object of utter beauty, the comb-over stretched languidly from the extreme left side of his head all the way to midway down his right ear, each and every strand whipped into total and unquestioning submission. Perfection is rare enough in itself but this was perfection achieved with merely a comb and some gel. The more I stared, the more I understood. The more I understood, the more the inner workings of the Universe became clear to me. Yes, the fabric of space time is indeed curved, much like hair combed over a bald pate. Yes, space is almost completely dark, interspersed only occasionally with little oases of light. Yes, this is why there is something instead of nothing.

Every movement of the owner’s head brought me closer and closer to nirvana. The only thing that could’ve torn my eyes away from such a magnificent entity would’ve been the Big Bang. Which duly happened. Twice. And on the ceiling above my head. And so nirvana was promptly screwed as I scrabbled out of the meeting room, ostensibly to find out what was going on but really to avoid dying. It turned out that a window pane had literally crumbled and fallen on the meeting room roof downstairs. Inexplicable, if you ask me. And so I went back to the comb-over and stared some more.