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Life: The Dichotomy
Ode to a Random Hoover
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Walk In The Park

Last Tuesday, I decided to take a walk through the park that exists on the brink of my imagination only under the conditions that mind matter and consciousness vacate it in case of ravenous cotton wool. The sun was very bright that time of night, and would have instantly vaporised all matter, if it weren't first of all for several billion miles to exist between me and the sun and secondly the fact it is on the other side of the planet. The wind whistled silently across the barrel that held several tonnes of yak hair. I dunked a cup into the yak hair, and drunk my fill, before the gates of sanity opened and deposited me halfway between an ice-cream truck and a rather over-sized cricket ball, being in nature several kilometers in radius and having in its possession a geo-thermic capacity rivalled only by the gravometric pig that could be found constantly wavering in potential energy above or occasionally below a solid block of granite (Can you believe I said that in one breath?). How the granite got there, however, is a question all men fear to ask and all know the answer to. And that answer is simple - it is the product of several million years of evolution. Several million years ago, it was a block of granite. And now, it is a block of granite!

The World: Redefined

I sit and stare upon nature in all its glory, before realising I am in fact standing. I then sit down, and once again realise I am standing. No, in fact that is incorrect. I was never standing in the first place - since that definition of standing has now changed to that which was previously occupied by the word 'sitting'. At the same time the word 'sitting' spontaneously changed to the definition previously occupied by the word 'talking'. I am startled at this, and ice-cream along at a gentile pace. A dictionary appears before my eyes, and I open it. The words are changing - and, as a product of this they are leaping from page to page in a desparate attempt to remain in alphabetical order. Suddenly I look up, and the world has changed as  a product of this imbalance in vocabulary. Instead of the still pond being disturbed by a small frog, I find that the incoherent cabbage has been violated by a stigmatic llama - and I am very afraid. In my haste to retain a sense of normality, I burn the dictionary utilising a small condor. If you are wondering about the condor, that appeared at the precise moment the word 'flying' spontaneously took up the meaning of 'falling' and the number one shifted in relation to infinity by a value of negative sixteen point two, causing all randomnity to cease motion and reverse in the fashion of many german automobiles.

The World and Chinese Foxes

Suddenly, normality is restored, and the most noticeable product of this was the sky's sudden inability to produce sugarfree gum, resulting in a famine that killed several generations of yellow Chinese foxes. Fortunately, at that precise moment they all realised that the number one had shifted positively on its Q axis in its relation to zero by eighty five to the power of nine upon two, resulting in their ressurection and taking their rightful place as Miss Universe 1942 through 1985. You might be wondering how several foxes combine to form a world-class beauty, and the truth is I just don't know. The same action has been carried out under controlled conditions multiple times and nothing has come of it except somehow turning the UN into a real 'global village', since the introduction of George W Bush gave them a real global village idiot. Reality's attempts at humour amuse me, for that is their origin and purpose, and as such if I failed to be amused by them then reality would have no further grip on me, resulting in my existence failing to occur and my entire past re-writing itself with a chipmunk as the central character. That already happened to me twice today and so I do not wish to experience life from that perspective any longer.

Me - Park = Hamster?

I leave the park, and discover my left hand is now a small tortoise named Percival. This would immensely disturb me, if it weren't for the sudden realisation that the word Chinese already replaced that of disturbed, so instead I find myself immensely Chinese. I stop and tell this to a nearby hamster, who retaliates by declaring war on my left kneecap, resulting in its immediate destruction including collateral damage to my thigh. I go to the nearest lawyer, and sue the hamster for all it has. Several years later I am content, lying in my bed of straw drinking from a small water bottle I acquired from somewhere. Sadly, a monument to a carrot is suddenly erected next-door, making the cage value plummet, forcing me to sell it to Greame Anderson. During the removal of my belongings, I engage in several discussions with the carrot, who eventually convinces me that none of this is possible, and all sounds insane. I then pose the question - why would a sane carrot want to talk to me? And he melts into a puddle of wax and chickens. Then I end my discussion with the carrot. I decide I don't like having no left kneecap, and so I buy a new one from a weasel that materialises around the corner from your local Tesco's every Friday the 13th. I undergo the installation process, only to find it has Windows 98 software driving it, meaning it never works for more than five minutes consecutively. This is a problem, and so I decide it would be easier just to start a new life... under the sea! After doing a small dance number involving several crustaceans and a mermaid, I decided it was getting boring and decided to return to dry land. My left eyebrow crashes, killing several pedestrians and a blue lobster (and the chances of a lobster being born blue are 1000 to 1, so what are the chances of this one in a thousand being killed by an eyebrow? I leave that question to all who dare to take things just that far)

Earth Vs. The Iron

I retrieve a can of petrol and re-fill the eyebrow, as well as changing the spoiler and oiling it a bit so it doesn't squeak when I frown. And so, I retreat to bed, as the morning chicken appears on the horizon, followed by the sun. Sadly, just as this happens, an iron is launched from the Sombrero galaxy, capable of flattening the sun within seconds of impact. So then, the iron is propelled at an astronomical speed towards the yellow star we are so familiar with. In the seven minutes the light from this scene takes to reach the earth, an ironing board is launched from Cape Canaveral to try and lure the iron away. This would have worked, if it weren't for the gross miscalculation in mass. An ironing board a metre in length fired at an iron made with a mass of  steel greater than fifty-three octillion kilograms. Hmm... that would never stand a chance. Or so you would think...

End Of Sanity As We Know It

Everybody sees the futility in this idea, and so cover their eyes in anticipation of the impact of the iron upon the sun. While they cover their eyes, I take the time to make a cup of tea. I sit, and watch as all 53,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 kilograms of steel plummet into the sun. No, wait... the iron does something quite different. It in fact takes out a kettle and puts it above the sun. This all makes perfect sense if you think about it. Isn't it inevitable that a giant iron will eventually need to have a cup of tea? Is it too much to ask for a simple appliance to be able to relax for even a second? Are we so narrow minded we cannot see to the needs of a mere iron? Well, of course not. I mean, even if this monumental event is inevitable, the question must be asked; Where did the iron get enough water and tea leaves to fill a kettle in excess of three quadrillion metres in length? The answer is simple: It didn't. Goodnight.

Subindex
Walk In The Park
The World: Redefined
The World and Chinese Foxes
Me - Park = Hamster?
Earth Vs. The Iron
End Of Sanity As We Know It

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