For hours, a tortoise looked up to admire the flight of the most beautiful eagle soaring through the skies with grace and ease. He had always been envious of flight, after all, he had been a low to the ground, crawling reptile for the last 79 years. As the eagle landed, the tortoise shouted, “Bravo, eagle, bravo.”
It was an uncommon moonless evening in North Korea. Rocketman was fast asleep like a chubbier panda bear. It was an ozone alert, gloomy, hazy and grey day in Washington D.C., and as usual, the dotard was napping. This was his lifestyle. If there were no tv cameras trained on him, he was snoozing.
“What a crowd. What a turnout.”
The two entities were sharing dream space, and it was not a pretty sight, unless you’re into a barren post-apocalyptic zone. Death and smoldering were omnipresent, lots of smoldering, believe me.
Global warming was wreaking havoc on Mother Earth, and no one was more aware of this than a pair of frogs sitting in the middle of a dried up marsh. In the last hour, the scorching sun reduced the remaining moisture to dust.
Bear with me a moment, and extend your imagination, please and thank you. I know, and you know that bare thread spools are inanimate, thus incapable of speech. But keep in mind, all good truth is based on a series of ridiculous lies, the more ridiculous, the larger the truth. The following is based on a true story, except for the part where the mouse speaks.