G
Ginkgo
Guest
This morning, Bob arose with a mighty lump in his abdomen, yearning to breach from his slothful body. And there he sat, for 6 hours, clenching a moaning as he created a giant, nebulous doodoo in the firmament of the waters below him. He was greatly pleased and relieved; so for the 7th hour he collapsed and rested.
After he awoke and returned, Bob noticed clusters of bacterium congregating on his creation. So, in his neurotic state, he decided to solicit a conversation with these little guests. He tried whispering, yelling, and even shook the toilet bowl a bit. Still, no response. Bob wondered, "Why won't they acknowledge me??" So he flushed the boisterous brown bastard down - but it clogged and bobbled up afresh, barely slaked. "That oughta get them to remember me", he thought.
A few hours later, Bob came back to his commode with tiny microchips transcribed just for the bacterium. After all, Bob was a compassionate and loving host - the least he could do was provide a decent mode of communication. Still, the bacterium could not fathom the depths of his message. Instead, they studied their scatted surroundings to try and "survive" in their environment.
"What is this?! They should know ME as their Creator! All other things are stupid!", Bob exclaimed.
So Bob twiddles his thumbs, anticipating that some day, the bacterium will heed his message. Then, when they least expect it, he will sling his dastardly doodoo into his microwave oven (not before harvesting the good ones who praise him) for 14 minutes - which will seem like a waking eternity to them.
Foolish bacterium. You should have known better.
After he awoke and returned, Bob noticed clusters of bacterium congregating on his creation. So, in his neurotic state, he decided to solicit a conversation with these little guests. He tried whispering, yelling, and even shook the toilet bowl a bit. Still, no response. Bob wondered, "Why won't they acknowledge me??" So he flushed the boisterous brown bastard down - but it clogged and bobbled up afresh, barely slaked. "That oughta get them to remember me", he thought.
A few hours later, Bob came back to his commode with tiny microchips transcribed just for the bacterium. After all, Bob was a compassionate and loving host - the least he could do was provide a decent mode of communication. Still, the bacterium could not fathom the depths of his message. Instead, they studied their scatted surroundings to try and "survive" in their environment.
"What is this?! They should know ME as their Creator! All other things are stupid!", Bob exclaimed.
So Bob twiddles his thumbs, anticipating that some day, the bacterium will heed his message. Then, when they least expect it, he will sling his dastardly doodoo into his microwave oven (not before harvesting the good ones who praise him) for 14 minutes - which will seem like a waking eternity to them.
Foolish bacterium. You should have known better.
