Thursday, January 08, 2004
Prominent Noses and the Insignificant Grains of Ground Pepper Who Defied Them
Once, while falling off a tall building, I began to hum a little tune. The wind that day was unusually strong, and unbeknownst to me, my tune began to drift along the seashore with a lilt. It reached the ears of two butterflies on the brink of bitter divorce. Something deep inside of them suddenly called out, suddenly yearned to be heard -- they knew in a heartbeat what they had to do. They turned and fluttered toward the business district, to a place on the corner they both knew well - a place where they could satisfy their hunger at any time, day or night. Dead Hippo Burger was a fantasy playground of tastes and smells brought to life. A butterfly could lose herself for hours in the intoxicating swirl of powerful aromas. And that's just what the two of them did.
Meanwhile, tall vines were crawling up a short tree somewhere. Another plastic bag of hydrogen punctured and ignited just below the clouds. Pretzels hung from fishing wire for the better part of the Iron Age. Millions of continents were lost.
Revelling in their rediscovered romance, the butterflies were unaware of the traffic outside the diner. They left in such a frivolously enamored haze that they ran into the side of a diesel tyrannosaurus. Heedless, they went on whistling the little tune the wind had brought them, which soon stuck in the dinosaur's jaded head and set his muscular feet a-tapping. He tapped on down the shore, endangering entire plant species on his way. I had reached a critical point in my descent by now, but a sweep of a large reptilian tail presented itself an alternative to the pavement. I grabbed hold and was saved.
Several glorious, fleeting seconds later, I was flung by the tail's momentum far out across the water and into the depths of the sea, where I became a successful proprietor of a small fruit stand before drowning.
Once, while falling off a tall building, I began to hum a little tune. The wind that day was unusually strong, and unbeknownst to me, my tune began to drift along the seashore with a lilt. It reached the ears of two butterflies on the brink of bitter divorce. Something deep inside of them suddenly called out, suddenly yearned to be heard -- they knew in a heartbeat what they had to do. They turned and fluttered toward the business district, to a place on the corner they both knew well - a place where they could satisfy their hunger at any time, day or night. Dead Hippo Burger was a fantasy playground of tastes and smells brought to life. A butterfly could lose herself for hours in the intoxicating swirl of powerful aromas. And that's just what the two of them did.
Meanwhile, tall vines were crawling up a short tree somewhere. Another plastic bag of hydrogen punctured and ignited just below the clouds. Pretzels hung from fishing wire for the better part of the Iron Age. Millions of continents were lost.
Revelling in their rediscovered romance, the butterflies were unaware of the traffic outside the diner. They left in such a frivolously enamored haze that they ran into the side of a diesel tyrannosaurus. Heedless, they went on whistling the little tune the wind had brought them, which soon stuck in the dinosaur's jaded head and set his muscular feet a-tapping. He tapped on down the shore, endangering entire plant species on his way. I had reached a critical point in my descent by now, but a sweep of a large reptilian tail presented itself an alternative to the pavement. I grabbed hold and was saved.
Several glorious, fleeting seconds later, I was flung by the tail's momentum far out across the water and into the depths of the sea, where I became a successful proprietor of a small fruit stand before drowning.
