A 3-pronged fork in the road.

The devil's fork. 3 prongs, barbed with evil intent. One prong, an extension of the rod. The other two are deviations, yet still attached to the same rod. Your hand always goes on the rod, not the prongs. Is one prong the extension of your handle?

The path beneath your feet. Why is the path smooth? How does a choice of three seem equal if the road you're on seems to carry through to one of the choices?

Your decision ability. Is your mind clear or clouded by frustration and its evil sister exhaustion? Is your will aligned with your feet and more importantly, your sense of smell? Are those the smells of fresh pastures emminating from the prong on the right? Or is the stench from the prong on the left overpowering your ofactory laboratory.

Your gut. Does it hunger for satisfaction. Does it whisper ancient and guiding wisdom. Does it feel lonely and forgotten. Does your gut tell you that the stench you smell is actually the mind playing tricks on you. Do you listen?

When faced with a choice of 2, isn't it a choice not to choose? Why don't they put a motel and a sleaze bar here at this junction. I could do with some stale beer and skanks.