Manifest Destiny

by Charles O’Hay

I once took a job as a metaphor for colonialism. “I want you to populate the cells in Column C,” the boss said. “Alone?” I asked. “What do you mean?” she said. “I mean, even Adam had Eve.” She smiled as if she’d just kissed a snowman. “It’s not that kind of job,” she said. I spent the next 3 months populating cells. Some I filled with chickens, others with broth. Some I filled with old Irish ballads. In one, I placed a lone crutch and a snapping turtle. In another a pig mask and a scythe. One day the boss came to my cube. “You’re done,” she said. “We’ll send your pay.” “But what about the other columns?” I asked. “If you did your job right,” she said, “they’ll populate themselves.” A week later, when I went to my mailbox, it was filled with bones.