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The fog came in on little cat feet. The

  • The fog came in on little cat feet. The sleet of the night before had slipped away on its belly, leaving a wet trail behind it. The ocean murmured like a thousand muttering

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  • mutterers. The sand on the beach sat stolidly like commuters on the platform waiting for the 7.55am fast train to Waterloo. The gulls screeched like post-hard core black metal

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  • gun shots firing into the Crimean night. The dead body laid on the beach like a vagrant. The flies made the most of its openings and the bloat made it look like a roasted pig.

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  • The CNN talking heads were debating whether to present this story before or after the man run over by the Purple Line at 4pm. They had five minutes to decide.

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  • The decided against. Presenting a completely unrelated story about a man who'd been injured by his snapping turtle while cleaning its aquarium in the buff.

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  • "What could he possibly have said about snapping turtles that we didn't already know?" It was a perfunctory task for Matt to question things that ought not be questioned.

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  • The snapping turtle snapped back at Matt, "Don't be so trusting that your technology can save every time. We, & nature in general, can be patient. After all, we don't have choice."

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  • "But I do have a choice," said Matt, "...regular turtle soup of extra chunky turtle chowder?" The turtle's eyes widened in horror. "You wouldn't dare!" it said. But Matt was all

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  • Cutting board and little regards. He made several meals out of the fat little turtle, and fed it to many customers and to the turtles own family. Mama turtle particularly liked it

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  • And so the turtle's story ends, in the belly of his mama. Funny how life works in such ways. You can be top of the world one day and in the belly of your mother the next. Life, huh

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1 Comments

  1. Woab Jul 10 2019 @ 16:34

    Ah, the circle of life.

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