2nd Place in Derby #316: ASCII Art, with 184 votes!

Pi felt a little itchy. He thought he might have a rash, so he checked himself in the mirror, but that didn't help. There was too much of him, it couldn't all fit in a mirror, not even a full-length mirror, not even one of those mirrors that they have at ballet studios where it's basically a whole wall. 

That's why he never went out. He couldn't ever really tell if he looked okay. What if he'd dragged some of his numbers through a mud puddle or an oil slick but they were trailing so far back there that he had no idea? He didn't want to embarrass himself, so he kept to himself and stayed inside.

But of course, he couldn't stay totally inside. There wasn't a house big enough to fit all of his numbers. There was always some part of him tumbling out the front door, onto the porch, down the street, through his neighbors' yards, over highways, across oceans, out into space, etc. So, he could never leave his house yet he was always out. 

Pi sighed. 

People were always saying that they wanted things to last forever - a book, a movie, a relationship, their lives - but not Pi. No, Pi understood that sometimes it really stinks when things have no end.

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