The following is a result of boredom on the train from Dundee to King's Cross. Try not to explode with the randomosity. It doesn't have a name, think of something appropriate.
One day I came across a
Pretty little Scottish animal.
She said her name was Zenith,
And she was a Harty.
She said she hated nothing,
Because she loved everything.
Her back legs were long and spindly,
And her front two were short and skinny.
She was roughly potato shaped,
With curly pink fur and eyes.
"I'm here to end world destruction!"
She informed me chirpily.
She climbed to a mountain's summit,
So her words could be heard by all.
I was her only audience,
But that didn't deter her.
She reached the mountain's top,
And began to turn around.
She fell headfirst over her front legs,
And tumbled into the path of an oncoming train.
Moral of this story:
Evolution is a bitch, and not to be trusted.
And, because I sank even deeper into the murky waters of boredom, I drew a picture! Not in colour, but, for the first time ever, what I drew vaguely matched the image I had in my head.
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| Harties forever. |
Quote of the day: The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive. [Robert Heinlein]
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