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Jan 25, 2010 | 11:31 PM EST
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1008 x 1056 px
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Author Comments

LetâEUTMs say you have an ax. The kind that you could use, in a pinch, to hack a manâEUTMs head off. And letâEUTMs say that very situation comes up and for some very solid reasons you behead a man. On the follow-through, though, the handle of the ax snaps in half in a spray of splinters. So the next day you take it to the ax store down the block and get a new handle, fabricating a story for the guy behind the counter and explaining away the reddish dark stains as barbecue sauce.

Now, that next spring you find in your garage a creature that looks like a cross-bred badger and anaconda. A badgerconda. And so you grab your trusty ax and chop off one of the beastâEUTMs heads, but in the process the blade of the ax strikes the concrete floor and shatters.

This means another trip to McMillan & Sons Ax Mart. As soon as you get home with your newly-headed ax, though, you meet the reanimated body of the guy you beheaded last year. HeâEUTMs also got a new head attached and itâEUTMs wearing that unique expression of âEUoeyouâEUTMre the man who killed me last SpringâEU resentment that one so rarely encounters in everyday life.

You brandish your ax. He takes a long look at the weapon with his squishy, rotting eyes and in a gargly voice he screams, âEUoethatâEUTMs the same ax that slayed me!âEU

Is he right?