Tuesday, February 23, 2010

It was a pleasant and nondescript afternoon when a man stopped to admire the roses being peddled on the sidewalk. In this unexpected moment of tranquility, he lifted one to his nose and inhaled. Simultaneously, and much unbeknownst to the gentleman, a particularly small and industrious bug made the journey from the smooth outer rim of the flower into the uncharted caverns of the man's left nostril.
After continuing along the dark and damp path to its logical conclusion, the bug found himself in the central point of the man's brain. All of the secrets of this glorious gelatinous lump were revealed to the little bug. The bug was greatly taken aback by the knowledge he was now privy to. The bug knew that the man had stopped at the cart not in the interest of botany, but in order to more closely study the subtle curves of the lady peddler. The bug knew that the socks the man was wearing had been the socks the man was wearing for three days now. He knew that the man didn't call his mother often enough, that he had very little luck with women (not for any lack of effort), and that he had a particular distaste for small dogs.
Having learned enough, the bug decided that humans were a particularly vile breed and gradually began his descent, hoping for sweeter and smoother pastures.

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