Veritable Thingie

It has been remarkably easy for me to sit back, relax, and forget the refulgent myrmidons and their uncouth ilk which make a pretense of enjoying my dingy corner of the digital world.

My dingy little corner

This is arguably unfortunate, but leaves me, quite often, creatively unfulfilled, and with copious amounts, of commas. These, I now foist upon you, my unwitting victims of uncommonly comatose prose.

Ah. To finally unleash the many words I've had rattling about my rotten noggin!

Back to business. Have you ever had the (mis)fortune to tend to the collective egg nursery of the local penguin population? I did, last night. Penguins are apparently avian otters, and quite playful. They enjoy mucking about in the water for hours on end, and may allow you (as they did me) to tend to their giant nest.

Awesome Picture of a Penguin

You see, these particular penguins built one large nest, as they had a slight egg production problem which caused an unusual number of eggs to be produced, and their little cup verily it runneth over. So instead of littering their little corner of the world with eggs, they consolidated to a single egg nursery.

These eggs also had the unique ability to develop a sort of armor. They started a pale robin-egg blue, but if healthy, turned a sort of fuzzy green, like a pea-pod, or a tortoise-shell. This enabled me to sit upon the pile without crushing any eggs.

As I sat upon these eggs, watching the playful penguins cavort and frolic in the foamy sea or rippling creek that floweth therein, several eggs began to turn a deep shade of blue, and their surface changed from an armored vegetable to a glass filled with deep blue liquid.

The glass shattered, and the blue liquid flowed out, forming an unnaturally blue sea upon the ground which flowed away, carrying away oddly shaped beings within which I assumed were baby penguins, but were so far away from resembling their progenitors as to cause me to doubt this assumption.

I stared for a moment at this uncanny vision, before running way to draw the attention of the penguins to this event. When I returned with the excited birds, I realized I was correct in my assumption that these oddly shaped beings were indeed young penguins, as they were now covered in feathers and running around wildly.

However, one of the parents apparently was a large mountain lion, and she was a bit upset that her child had imprinted on me, and thought I was his mommy. I tried to cheer her up, as she was getting angry, and I feared for my very life, but I suspected she'd be content to just tear off an arm. I carefully handed her baby to her, and moseyed the hell away.

Freud once said something and wrote it down, and it might apply to this scenario, but I believe it was a grocery list, and I struggle to comprehend why he brought it up at this juncture. It might have had something to do with eggs or penguins, but he didn't have long to explain it before I sent him on his way.