The next morning I saw the sailboat in a tree, about fifteen feet in the air. How it sailed there I couldn’t begin to imagine. “Must be a new form of energy,” muttered my mailman, Pete. “Whuu?” I said, drool falling out of my mouth. “Oh, every few thousand years god invents a new form of energy,” he replied.
“You mean like electricity, nuclear fission and shit?” I asked.
“No, I mean like fucking,” he said. “About three thousand years ago he created fucking. Shit got pretty crazy after that. We had to create killing just make ends meet.”