The Curious Dreamlife of Marshmallow Addie - Volume 5
Oyster1 looked at oyster2 searchingly. "What do feel like right now?", it asked.
"Some champagne would be nice." came the reply.
"Well, we're some way away from the next oyster bar, so something more realistic would probably work", oyster1 said.
Oyster2 shrugged (insofar as an oyster can shrug). "Might as well dream of what might be."
Oyster1 looked away. It was going to be a long night.
A large oyster wave crashed against the grimy shore and receded back into the oyster sea. Little bits of ocean popped their heads out through the sea and then sunk back down to the bottom.
"You know," oyster1 said, "there's supposed to be a Primordial Oyster in our near vicinity."
This genuinely piqued the interest of oyster2. Primordial Oysters were found one in several million. Of course, there were billions and billions of regular oysters, so the chances of bumping into a Primordial Oyster were not entirely non-existent. But still, this was something oyster2 had only heard about in myths.
"So tell me something," he asked oyster2, "These are the ones with large shiny pearls in them, right?"
Oyster1 laughed. "Of course not! Those are a dime a dozen. Primordial Oysters contain entire universes within themselves."
"What sort of universes?"
"Ah, there I cannot help you, because I don't know myself. Probably their own, private universes."
"That's nothing. We contain ours too."
"Well, I suppose you could call a soft piece of meat eaten with a small fork a universe if you really wanted to. Something tells me that's not quite what they mean when they talk about Primordial Oysters, though."
"Well, good for them."
"You really want to make this a long night, don't you?"
"I am painless."
"And I'm an Abyssinian maid." Oyster1 sighed. Life ought to be a lot simpler.
Waves of black and lavender crashed gently against the pensively textured fractal shores. An unnamed creature crawled into its cubby hole. It was possibly inebriated on the lack of moonlight. Auroric crashes of thunder intermittently blew soft barbs. And the world became a mess. Again.
An idea particle stirred inside a slow brain. It glowed softly (insofar as an oyster can glow) and constructed itself between eternities. Because time is a whiff of impotent wallflowers on a languid Sunday evening. It is the rustle of dreamy oysters floating against a grim seascape.
A figure stirred inbetween two slumbers. It let out a small muffled groan and turned over discontentedly. Not particularly gainly or elegant. But marshmallows seldom are.
Oyster1 looked at oyster2 searchingly. "What do feel like right now?", it asked.
"Some champagne would be nice." came the reply.
"Well, we're some way away from the next oyster bar, so something more realistic would probably work", oyster1 said.
Oyster2 shrugged (insofar as an oyster can shrug). "Might as well dream of what might be."
Oyster1 looked away. It was going to be a long night.
A large oyster wave crashed against the grimy shore and receded back into the oyster sea. Little bits of ocean popped their heads out through the sea and then sunk back down to the bottom.
"You know," oyster1 said, "there's supposed to be a Primordial Oyster in our near vicinity."
This genuinely piqued the interest of oyster2. Primordial Oysters were found one in several million. Of course, there were billions and billions of regular oysters, so the chances of bumping into a Primordial Oyster were not entirely non-existent. But still, this was something oyster2 had only heard about in myths.
"So tell me something," he asked oyster2, "These are the ones with large shiny pearls in them, right?"
Oyster1 laughed. "Of course not! Those are a dime a dozen. Primordial Oysters contain entire universes within themselves."
"What sort of universes?"
"Ah, there I cannot help you, because I don't know myself. Probably their own, private universes."
"That's nothing. We contain ours too."
"Well, I suppose you could call a soft piece of meat eaten with a small fork a universe if you really wanted to. Something tells me that's not quite what they mean when they talk about Primordial Oysters, though."
"Well, good for them."
"You really want to make this a long night, don't you?"
"I am painless."
"And I'm an Abyssinian maid." Oyster1 sighed. Life ought to be a lot simpler.
Waves of black and lavender crashed gently against the pensively textured fractal shores. An unnamed creature crawled into its cubby hole. It was possibly inebriated on the lack of moonlight. Auroric crashes of thunder intermittently blew soft barbs. And the world became a mess. Again.
An idea particle stirred inside a slow brain. It glowed softly (insofar as an oyster can glow) and constructed itself between eternities. Because time is a whiff of impotent wallflowers on a languid Sunday evening. It is the rustle of dreamy oysters floating against a grim seascape.
A figure stirred inbetween two slumbers. It let out a small muffled groan and turned over discontentedly. Not particularly gainly or elegant. But marshmallows seldom are.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home