This is my Master Plan for the three or four inches remaining in my Whole Nine Yards. As Master Plans go, it’s pretty inscrutable, even to me, because my Original Master Plan didn’t include learning how to craft a scrutable Master Plan. But I forgive myself, since I was only three at the time, and my Original Master Plan consisted mainly of strategies for collecting toys. Which goes a long way towards explaining why I sit here today surrounded by piles of random toys and little else. If you look at it a certain way, my Original Master Plan was phenomenally successful, since I’m still alive and I have toys. It’s only when you look at it one of the hundred million other ways that it’s seen as a failure, the kind of failure that the word abject was created for. If abjectest were a word, then it would be the perfect word for the slot currently occupied by abject, but it hasn’t, as far as I know. So anyway. My New Master Plan, presented here, is intended to carry me from my squalor and toys into a bright new future of...well, I don’t know, I haven’t gotten to that part yet. Phase One was to assemble elements that, together, made no sense whatsoever, and go from there. I’m pretty comfortable with Phase One: nonsense makes few demands of one, don’t you find? It’s the next part that has me nervously biting my knuckles, or would, if I were a fully-realized adult. I just hope it doesn’t feature linoleum-lined hallways smelling faintly of urine. That would be abject.