"Hey Leonard..."
>The audience giggles.
"Hey Sheldon."
>Small laughs rise in anticipation.
"I've got a hangover bigger than the original X-Box..."
>There is silence. The set goes black. One lone face appears, illuminated by candlelight. It looks upwards, towards an unknowable heaven, and an even more mysterious Lord. The fifth Horseman, Comedy, rides rough over the plains, and trumpets the true end. Somewhere, a child is born, and does not cry, but instead laughs. A man on trial for murder laughs as the prosecution delivers expert testimony; the judge, while in the middle of chastising him, laughs as well. As does the family of the victim, and then the entire court. The victim, long dead and stiff with cold, laughs, muffled by the confines of the morgue shelf they are in. They are joined by many more muffled laughs. If they are alive, if only for one second, it is to laugh, and nothing more. A new constellation forms in the sky, and it forms the letters L, O, and L. Brighter than the moon, they shine down upon all providence, and all who see it know what makes the world. Not pain, or cold reason, but laughter. Pure laughter.
