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rejectomorphI am bored.
There is an overwhelming ordinariness dogging the day. Up the street, a lawn is being mowed. Somewhere nearby someone is hammering something. I catch a whiff of charcoal from a barbecue grill. There are no birds about. A breeze is causing a branch to bump against the eaves. I can't have such commonplace boredom. I have decided that the mower of the lawn has gone mad, and is pushing the machine back and forth over the already cut grass as he contemplates some terrible crime. The person with the hammer is mad as well, demolishing his house from the inside, imagining it to be a prison. Neither of them will suffer much longer. The charcoal is being heated by another madman who will soon slaughter the first two and cook their flesh on his grill. The birds are absent because they are gathered secretly to weave the spell which has caused this epidemic of madness. It is their time. After ages of preparation, they will begin to eliminate the human usurpers who have prevented them from reclaiming the world once ruled by their immense saurian ancestors. That bumping on the eaves? Not a branch stirred by the wind, but some giant avian perched there, set to guard against my escape. The birds know I'm onto them!
There. That's much better.
There is an overwhelming ordinariness dogging the day. Up the street, a lawn is being mowed. Somewhere nearby someone is hammering something. I catch a whiff of charcoal from a barbecue grill. There are no birds about. A breeze is causing a branch to bump against the eaves. I can't have such commonplace boredom. I have decided that the mower of the lawn has gone mad, and is pushing the machine back and forth over the already cut grass as he contemplates some terrible crime. The person with the hammer is mad as well, demolishing his house from the inside, imagining it to be a prison. Neither of them will suffer much longer. The charcoal is being heated by another madman who will soon slaughter the first two and cook their flesh on his grill. The birds are absent because they are gathered secretly to weave the spell which has caused this epidemic of madness. It is their time. After ages of preparation, they will begin to eliminate the human usurpers who have prevented them from reclaiming the world once ruled by their immense saurian ancestors. That bumping on the eaves? Not a branch stirred by the wind, but some giant avian perched there, set to guard against my escape. The birds know I'm onto them!
There. That's much better.
