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dreams of a stonethere once was a rock
a very large rock..... from the perspective of an ant
this rock had a dream to play golf
by the time our beloved boulder reached the first hole it realized something....
rocks can't play golf
then it realized something else... rocks can't think.... the thought seemed internally inconsistant
a world was unfolding right in front of him
he must really be margerine
the sheer deduction was shocking, disturbing, and borderline maddening
upon realizing who he was, he then climbed to the top of the highest tree
it stung like the harsh december sun
bankers circled him, flapping their arms...getting ready to establish their morning meal. they truely understood it was not butter... they where the chosen ones
his unchurned past unfolded before his eyes as he sprawled....impaled, losing conscience
the 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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