So basically, what if cations mew and we can’t hear them because we are larger than cation-sized humans would imagine their entire universe to be? Or maybe Faraday was overwhelmed by their auras of positivity.
But no. Here comes Greek with all the logical explanations and etymological ancestry to destroy my beautiful chain of nonsensical sense. That’s not how it is supposed to be. Greek and Latin is supposed to refer to something that makes lesser sense than yellow horses walking on trees because if horses can walk on trees, they can probably fly and that simply means Pegasus and Greek mythology explains it, don’t mind the yellow on second thoughts, a blue-green would make more sense. Camouflage is, after all, an important survival strategy. But here comes the great iron E and Greek logic wrecks my twisted string of colourful Archimedes loops. No wonder cats preferred Egypt.
On an unrelated note, but nothing is really unrelated, so let me re-frame this. So as these flying Greek horses turned into stars that floated around in the sky, (as Greek logic would tell you) or as the constellations move steadily across from east to west because this dizzy little planet cannot stop pirouetting diagonally, I had a dream.
Now I want to make sure you understand that this isn’t the kind of dream that you follow. It’s the kind of dream you wake up from, dazed, wondering how on the-dizzy-celestial-body it is that people still take your sanity for granted when it makes these random decisions to rope-walk across chasms between magenta elephants and lime green and half-blood orange zebras and leaves this little corner of your partly rational mind open-mouthed and petrified of the rivers of chaos flowing underneath. I like to think that there are floral patterned crocodiles who dress like typical old ladies from Pixar and adopt the folks who go off-balance and fall in. I might be next.
So I sat in the desert (I was not sitting in a bowl of ice-cream, quite the contrary) with a bowl-full of ice-cubes in front of me in the sand and sun (see?). I had been kindly requested in beautiful German to wait out in the natural barbecue/grill until the ice melted; I couldn’t refuse. For most of the dream I sat and stared at the ice which, incidentally, refused to melt. Apparently people had begun to work against global warming. After what felt like hours, and that really could’ve been seconds; I was bored, I decided to pick up a cube of ice to try to figure out why they wouldn’t melt. My stinging hand revealed that they weren’t ice cubes after all. In fact they were miniature versions of swiss knives of a sort that could be disguised as ice cubes and strategically be ‘inverted’ so all the sides were extremely sharp versions of sandpaper that could peel your skin off. Advantage: people in deserts like ice.
My brain was busy making murder weapons while I slept (It had been producing them against my orders, I swear. I don’t usually let my brain experiment on me with its inventions.) and wasn’t fully aware that it had to wake early so that it’s thick headed human (funny because brain be stuck inside thick head) wouldn’t fall asleep in class tomorrow.
Tune in again to see if I discover a new species of horse on the mango tree at school tomorrow. I have a feeling it’s going to be striped blue-green and yellow, much like it’s zebra cousin.
T. E. Pyrus