Jim was a weeds farmer. But wherever he planted

Jim was a weeds farmer. But wherever he planted his weeds seeds, nothing sprouted. "Where do all the weeds go?" he asked the heavens as his downward-growing weeds emerged in
Hell. They were a hardy thistly kind and tormented Lucifer's bare-footed demons. "Where are these infernal weeds coming from?", cried Beealzebub. Meanwhile, Jim the weeds farmer
was at the local bookstore, signing copies of his book "Weeds". Of course, he was signing "The Devil" in fancy script, making the demon really mad. He grabbed Death's schythe and
picked the popcorn husk that was jammed in his gums. Death said, "Look man, you know what? Forget it!" Death left the writer there. Even his scythe. The door slammed behind death
leaving Terry Pratchett dumbfounded. If Death really existed, could it be true that the world was really carried on the back of four elephants standing on the shell of a giant turt
le? It would all make sense. Why time moves so slowly, why nothing is where I put it, that figure that appears in my peripheral but always disappears when I try to look at it. Now
I knew what scientists meant by dark matter. With the universe always expanding, wouldn't it stretch the borders to the other realm? The phantoms knew. I must make plans.
Unfortunately, the Reapers had plans for the universe as well. They had to eat dark matter in order to survive. With the supply of dark matter dropping, humans were another choice.
Mmm...the Reapers soon discovered that humans were also delicious like dark chocolate bars.Their rich taste coated the Reapers' tongues with velvety depression & delectable despair
with a zesty finish of underhandedness and spite, leaving a slightly sour, sweaty aftertaste. But after all, they'd consumed whole cities - so they got their just desserts.

Started: 2011-12-21 17:29:11
Finished: 2013-11-22 22:37:33

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