He was old. And he was stupid. He was the

He was old. And he was stupid. He was the last of his kind. Facing total extermination he grabbed a butter knife and plunged it deep into

into the huge wad of butter that lay on his table. But the butter was frozen solid and was not going to stop him from a slow excruciating death by starvation. "Help..." he muttered

to another man who was starving yet too image conscious to eat butter. "I must have lean meat." The skinny men looked at each other lustfully, then self-defensively rubbed butter

all over themselves...up there, down there, in between here and there, in every crevice. Convinced they were now "safe" from eating each other, the starving, well-buttered men sat

in the big crockpot, their thick hairy legs dangling over the cold steel rim. One of them groped around for a carrot, hungry as he was. He grasped the first thing he came to

his hairy giant hands and threw it in the pot. It's was white, gloppy, and gripping the the steel as if it had just come out of a very long fleshy tube.

The stew morphed into something so weird nobody wanted to eat it.

Except Mikey, even as an adult he'd eat anything. We ladeled a portion of the stew into Mikey's bowl. What looked like a giant slug swam in a broth with some tiny shrunken heads of

sea monkeys with veggie bits. At this we were astonished. "Mikey, he likes it!" Mikey had been subsisting on tea, ramen and cat chow to fund his VR pedal setup. His Ono-Sendai deck

lay sprawled over the floor, cast aside in throes of excitement. But now, faced with the joy only sea monkeys could provide, they all felt a purpose rise. A subaquatic nirvana.