The Platypus in All Of Us
Deep down, I think we're all on the brink of extinction when you really think about it. I mean, think hard here. Really very hard. Say you make a killer lasagna, and then you're out one day walking down a busy street with cars whipping about recklessly all over the place and suddenly your vagina starts hemorrhaging and you die. The delicious odour of said killer lasagna will never again be wafted. We are all dying in our own way I think and it's up to us to leave our legacy. Personally, I've chosen to leave behind an intricate sculpture of the Florida Keys I made out of my own feces. I've sealed it with a powerful lacquer to preserve it for all of time. My platypus will live on. But I ask you, will yours still be around in the year 3498 AD, when cyborgs roam the Earth, pillaging and raping the once-proud race of salamander-men who had ruled harmoniously with the land they so loyally served and protected for centuries upon centuries?
