Once upon a time, there was a man in a parachute, floating slowly to the ground. It was a frightening time. He had not intended to be falling to the ground from a great height. But here he was.

"Good thing you have that parachute," he was told. "Don't take it off."

But the parachute harness was uncomfortable. It chafed his shoulders. And it was, for the man, an anxious time, hovering in mid-air. He preferred to be on the ground. He wished this could just be over.

"Is it, really, a good thing that I have this parachute," the man asked.

"Definitely," he was told. "We did the math. If you did not have this parachute from the beginning, you would hit the ground a tremendous speed. Your body would not survive. At this point, you would hit the ground at half that speed. You still would not survive."

"You keep changing your numbers," the man said. "You keep throwing this 'math' business in my face. How could my speed be one thing or half that thing? How can I trust you if you can't make up your mind. Maybe the whole plummeting business was just a 'theory'." He used air quotes

The man looked down to the ground. On the ground, his feet didn't dangle, and he didn't have a harness digging into his thighs. It was unpleasant, he felt, being in this parachute. He needed a haircut. He wanted to go out to dinner. He could do neither of those things.

"I think I don't need this parachute any longer," the man said. "You told me at the beginning that if I didn't have it I would plummet to my death. But look! I'm fine! Your 'science' is wrong."

And so, the man unbuckled. He watched as the parachute shuddered and flapped. He watched as it caught a crosswind and whipped out of sight. He watched as ground sped closer and closer. He closed his eyes.

The end.