dreams of a stonethere once was a rocka very large rock..... from the perspective of an antthis rock had a dream to play golfby the time our beloved boulder reached the first hole it realized something....rocks can't play golfthen it realized something else... rocks can't think.... the thought seemed internally inconsistanta world was unfolding right in front of himhe must really be margerinethe sheer deduction was shocking, disturbing, and borderline maddeningupon realizing who he was, he then climbed to the top of the highest treeit stung like the harsh december sunbankers circled him, flapping their arms...getting ready to establish their morning meal. they truely understood it was not butter... they where the chosen oneshis unchurned past unfolded before his eyes as he sprawled....impaled, losing consciencethe bankers acended in unison flapping their arms to gain altitude. As if dawned by the sudden realization that only one of they would be able to eat; only one could claim ownership
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