“I’m sorry, Ma,” said the tiny young girl. “I forgot.”
“One of these days, Alessa, something terribly awful will happen when you slam that door,” said her mom.
“Yes, Mom,” Alessa said, thinking that was just too silly of an idea. Still, it did frighten Alessa a little and she stopped slamming the door.
Then, one day she forgot.
The building shook.
Things tumbled off the shelves and walls.
The trees and the houses rocked and rolled.
The bridges collapsed.
The roads crumbled.
The cities fell apart.
The water in the bay shook.
The mountain tops blew off.
All over the world, the crusts moved and shook and sunk and rose.
The earth spun off its wobble.
It bumped into the moon, next into Mars, and then into Jupiter.
Earth bounced back towards the sun, sucking up all the other planets of the solar system.
The sun and all the planets exploded and swirled into a swirl, swirling, swirling, swirling and collapsing into a black hole.
Everything was pitch black. Silent.
Please, please, please.
Don’t slam the door.