Does anyone else find it odd that whenever you purchase a piece of furniture that you must assemble yourself, there always seems to be a missing piece? Normally it’s some vital bolt that will keep you from crashing to the floor in your new computer chair.

Where do all of these pieces go? The logical ones out there may claim that there never were lost pieces, that there was merely a short count by a sorting machine. I imagine something much more fantastical. Somewhere out there, I imagine an alternate universe, not much different than our own. This universe consists of items made completely out of missing pieces. People wear missing socks, lost in the dryer ages ago. The inhabitants of this world include: Jimmy Hoffa, Amelia Earhart, and the like. Their currency consists of sofa change, and the occasional dollar bill. Big business consists of mere hundreds of dollars. The continent on this world is Neverland. Atlantis is its capitol city.