tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81406428624343517822012-01-16T23:55:23.282+11:00A foul and disturbing investigation into the black heart of the human condition. Results published at Cosmic Rapture. Adults only.masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comBlogger501100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-40732279368525054632010-05-12T07:47:00.003+10:002010-05-12T07:52:04.133+10:00

All of the content of this site, and much more, can be found at Cosmic Rapture... Includes dark fiction, weird ideas, unusual speculations and anything else you won't see anywhere else...Drog, Wharf and Zambooka were sitting in the Sub-Orbital Lounge awaiting transfer to Korendi. Drog was feeling rather dispirited, the prospect of spending three lunes in the company of his boozy, roguish brothers

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-31318417338149696842010-05-09T10:23:00.003+10:002010-05-12T07:52:22.933+10:00

All of the content of this site, and much more, can be found at Cosmic Rapture... Includes dark fiction, weird ideas, unusual speculations and anything else you won't see published anywhere else...pretty little woman with a wart just mite have bean standing by the Pope’s cousin’s dog window, his back to the Pope’s cousin’s dog door, his hands clasped behind his back. As she you can help me solve

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-68979049121279074902010-05-06T11:39:00.002+10:002010-05-06T11:39:56.507+10:00

All of the content of this site, and much more, can be found at Cosmic Rapture... Includes dark fiction, weird ideas, unusual speculations, and things you won't see published anywhere else. Mature content. Adults only."...and you agree that you have been fully informed of all the dangers. You understand that your signature in the space indicated means you have read and understood all the terms

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-44666165082283469232007-12-16T21:20:00.004+11:002010-03-21T13:40:30.462+11:00

Central Station is a busy, busy place. Literally hundreds of thousands of people pass through it every day, milling and scurrying like ants this way and that, silently cursing each other under their breaths, avoiding eye contact at all costs. continues at Cosmic Rapture...

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-89572346628249785442007-12-02T21:52:00.002+11:002010-03-21T13:36:07.185+11:00

 Once there was a very advanced species of lifeform. Their civilisation was so glitteringly sophisticated and required so much energy to keep it going that they had to construct special devices around entire galaxies to capture every last smidgin, joule, erg, electron-volt of energy emitted from all the suns within all those galaxies.After a while they realised that even those huge amounts of

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-22557119753250004872007-12-02T11:59:00.002+11:002010-03-21T13:31:07.443+11:00

 Once upon a time there was a Magic Painting that was a doorway to another world. Anyone who looked at the Painting fell into a trance and entered the other world, just as Alice through the looking glass. Inside the world of the Painting, people had wonderful, mystical, exciting adventures. And when they returned, they felt happy and healthy and healed of all their wounds and all their

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-34434534373418020562007-12-02T06:13:00.001+11:002010-03-21T13:27:56.424+11:00

 Once upon a night, a seven year old boy named Cain dreamed about flying in the sky above a strange and beautiful land of tangerine hills, marmalade skies, turquoise oceans, deep emerald forests and sacred living mysteries long forgotten. The dream was so lovely and made the little boy feel so happy that he decided to wake up his younger brother Abel asleep in the next bed so that they could fly

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-28101696460101845472007-10-20T18:28:00.000+10:002007-11-03T10:48:06.743+11:00

The gang were all there, in their usual spot behind the maintenance block at the south end of the school grounds. They were talking about good ways to commit suicide and Tom said injecting air into your veins cos that gives you a heart attack, and that's how Bruce Lee died but they never found out who did it though.Then Piggy said eating yourself to death, like in that movie where they ate and

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-39290057768339882912007-10-14T20:57:00.000+10:002007-11-11T20:34:48.322+11:00

You are in the chamber of The Shining Waterfall. Visible exits lead N, S, E, W, U and D. You see: Nothing.sYou go South. Visible exits lead N and S. You see: Nothing.sYou go South. You are in the Chamber of Despair. Visible exits lead S. You see: Nowhere Man, a yellow submarine.sYou can not go South. Nowhere Man blocks your way. You are in the Chamber of Despair. Visible exits lead S. You see:

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-18291309174139115652007-10-02T06:08:00.000+10:002007-11-11T00:23:59.406+11:00

Once upon a time on a sad and lonely planet lived a sad and lonely man named Sad Solly, who didn’t understand what was happening, which made him sad. And all across the planet, all the sad and lonely people who didn’t understand what was happening, got up in the morning and went to bed in the evening and always felt as sad as sad can be…‘Twas a time of sorrow, when a black cloud of misery,

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-57665409874876673132007-10-01T21:49:00.000+10:002008-02-09T16:19:27.821+11:00

The Pale Man for unknown reasons feels compelled to access a childhood memory—a flying dream. In which the world unfolds like a gigantic tapestry, a cosmic picture show, forms and colors of Everything That Is writhing and whirring beneath his feet, above his head, filling him with wonder and excitement."Oh you’re good, Eriol" says the Pale Man, "you're very good…" His legs shake, his torso sways

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-54638722615589871952007-09-24T05:56:00.000+10:002008-02-09T16:15:46.598+11:00

One day, advanced extra-terrestrial beings from another galaxy came to Planet Earth. This was not the first time the aliens had come to the Planet, so they were very surprised at the dramatic extent to which the level of bio-diversity had fallen since their last visit. Every single one of the species that they had previously identified as having potential for self consciousness, had seemingly

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-64758579104423652432007-09-11T06:44:00.000+10:002007-12-30T16:09:09.932+11:00

Secrets imprison knowledge, constrain understanding, obscure true pathways. Some secrets throb with power, sparkle with the colours of alchemy. Great is the secret known as the Elixir of Eternal Life. Great is the secret known as the Philosopher's Stone. Some secrets are tucked away at the back of your mind never to be known on pain of death. Secrets carried to the grave and beyond. Secrets

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-35694258520671808772007-09-08T13:21:00.000+10:002008-02-09T16:04:18.815+11:00

Higher Self: Say you woke up one morning and realised that your deathday had dawned--that you were going to die within 24 hours--what would you want to say, and to whom, before moving on to the next life? Homunculus: Mmm! Interesting… lemme think about that for a minute…Higher Self: Come on, get a move on, you've got 24 hours before you die, remember.Homunculus: Well, it would depend I suppose

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-74455605198077883672007-09-04T02:39:00.000+10:002008-02-09T16:00:33.424+11:00

At the crossroads of Dichotomous Choices are two paths. One leads to Hellbent Hotel in the City of Dis, a stygian place of despair, madness, pain and death. The other path leads to the Stately Pleasure Dome in the Garden of Earthly Delights, where dreams come true in a most delightful way. The Dome is renowned throughout the seventeen universes as a really nice place to visit. But unfortunately,

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-54715300678595547292007-09-01T21:53:00.000+10:002007-11-11T00:38:49.581+11:00

When Jon was a little boy--they called him JJ in those days--his parents were very rich. His father was a wealthy industrialist. His mother ran the household with the aid of an army of servants. They had lots of dinner parties and receptions, in those days, his parents did. JJ and his brothers and sisters had everything that money could buy--all the latest toys and games and clothes and music.

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-81000263555966319332007-08-29T06:23:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:55:42.788+11:00

An acrid smell hung in the air of the suburban street. Grey plumes from the nearby processing plant stained the sky. The sun blazed relentlessly.There were a number of people around. Two teenage boys were washing a car parked in the street. An elderly man sat in the bus shelter reading his newspaper.A little girl of five or six played with her ball in the front yard of a box-like house. A woman

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-67098703480127060972007-08-24T06:19:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:52:40.347+11:00

There is a certain Doorway through which some have crossed over to other places, other dimensions, from which few if any return. Some say the Doorway is a Painting, a Magic Painting. Others say it is a device---a stargate, a portal, a wormhole---created by unknown and unknowable beings in the singularity at the very heart of the Cosmos. Mathematicians believe it is a flaw in the geometry of

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-38618746475768493712007-08-19T09:18:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:49:58.532+11:00

From the gigantic bronze bell at the top of the hundred foot tower boomed eleven monstrous tolls, deep and sonorous, marking the commencement of Elevenses, the time when Imperior Holocaustic III would hear the beseechings and complaints of plaintiffs from across the Land. Into the Great Hall of our Fourmothers warily trudged the little people, each wondering whether today would be the day when

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-65561044445344796262007-08-12T22:26:00.000+10:002007-09-18T21:24:45.504+10:00

please input the first name of the meanest, nastiest person: ivan when Ivan is very surprised or shocked he says, wow!, amazing!, jesus h christ!, great galumphing hephalumps!, bugger me!, jeez!, incredible! when jack is very surprised or shocked he says: wow truly amazing cool bugger me incredible hooly dooly huh? wicked jeez please input the last name of the meanest, nastiest person: max what

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-3359791193420034862007-08-05T12:57:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:47:24.587+11:00

Over a hundred years ago, my great grandfather was the self-appointed "captain" of the Clifton Volunteer Surf Lifesaving Club. One fateful morning, as the story goes, great grandad and the members of the Club (a dozen neighbourhood boys aged between eight and twelve) met on the beach just after sunrise as was their practice and began setting up the equipment. The surf was high that day, the

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-44767875733108442342007-08-04T17:55:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:45:22.054+11:00

Day. I am in a large conference room with a number of colleagues. They are talking among themselves about a current engagement. I walk to the front of the conference room and sit down in one of the chairs in the front row of twenty-four chairs arranged in eight rows, theatre-style. The conference room is actually a motor car. I am in the left front passenger seat. Three colleagues are in the car

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-82652934800473013672007-07-27T23:26:00.000+10:002007-10-28T00:43:10.267+10:00

The effects were felt within seconds. At first, these mild headaches, doubleplus every singular lonesome solitary dry, coppery taste in the mouth. Then, he began 2 experience perceptual distortion---he felt very big, then very small. First he was a giant statue, then these flecks of dust belonging to the Albanian Pope. Aaargh!! Aaargh!! Julius screams' were meaningless, booming echoes.The echoes

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-45827051898937708172007-07-22T18:20:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:41:41.474+11:00

“To thank is to partake of that for which the thanks is given, as if the thanker were the thankee, and the thanked the thanka,” said a pale and loitering man, tall and thin, his sedge withered. His morose companion, Constidius, leaning against a damp and dirty stone wall, rolled his eyes, sighed and wished for better days. How long had they been incarcarcarcerated, stuttered Constidius' thoughts

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-23218277799768846602007-07-08T02:26:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:38:44.377+11:00

A thousand years ago a fat and rancid Monk, Constidius, was contemplating his impending demise. Reclining fat and sweaty in a mouldy armchair in a dank and scabrous room within a cheap and nasty brothel, Constidius folded his upper lip over his lower lip and blubbered like a baby. The Barbarians were coming! Constidius’ tunic felt wet and warm around the nether regions. Fear of the Barbarians had

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-50361206083452115482007-07-07T20:33:00.000+10:002007-07-07T21:09:53.898+10:00

I first met D in 1989 when I started working for IBM in the Public Affairs team. As a newly arrived immigrant, it was all a bit bewildering for me: new job, new country, new people, new culture. He was a bald old coot in a rumpled suit, stinking of cigarettes, just as badly as I must have stank. I was confused, anxious and lonely. He took me under his wing, took pity on me, showed me the ropes,

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-73501390020705187472007-06-11T17:34:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:33:29.654+11:00

"How do I become enlightened?" asked the Student of his aged Guru, a gnarled and wizened personage of indeterminate gender. Sitting in padmasanam on top of a large boulder, on top of a high mountain, at first the nut-brown gnarly one treated the question with the stupefied silence it deserved. But the Student persisted, much to the Guru's disgust and annoyance. Still the nut-brown made no answer,

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-25226418062420456942007-06-05T06:35:00.000+10:002007-06-10T17:24:41.720+10:00

Jimmy was a shy, nerdy little boy with ginger hair and a stutter. He was bullied at school but he didn’t tell his parents about it because he knew what his dad would say: “There’s only one way to deal with bullies and that’s to stand up to ‘em and be a man, not a snivelling little baby…”And he knew his mom would say, “Daddy’s right darling…”.He knew that’s what they would say because that’s what

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-66121012311155982812007-06-03T22:51:00.000+10:002007-06-04T20:48:24.090+10:00

Around a defiant fire, huddled the last Remnants still loyal to the Imperium, survivors of the Barbarian invasion, gritty farmers and artisans with pain in their hearts and tin in their eyes. They had fled, yes, when the Barbarian hordes had swept down from the icy Hills and icy Fjords and raped the women and eaten their muffins. But they had fled with courage, these were Remnants with guts. They

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-49307636384011778732007-06-02T16:24:00.001+10:002008-06-12T21:29:42.886+10:00

Once within a sick and dying culture was born a girlchild, Cassandra. The culture into which Cassandra was born had not always been sick. It had become sick as a result of infection. You may have seen that old science fiction movie called "invasion of the body snatchers"? Well, this story is about mind snatchers. It's less about space invaders and more about mindspace invaders: virtual viruses

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-38681326153664732972007-06-01T06:51:00.000+10:002008-02-09T15:07:04.118+11:00

One day dad went into McDonald's for a burger but it was quite busy and he had to wait in line. Also, the teenage staff weren't very efficient: one was flirting with a boy from her school, another was talking on her mobile, and another was just plain slow and useless full stop. Dad got more and more impatient. He had a terrible hangover and all he wanted was a nice greasy burger to throw to the

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-39572253292949509082007-05-14T00:45:00.000+10:002008-02-09T14:50:52.509+11:00

Mysterious Ailments afflict some people. Ailments the very existence of which many doctors deny, not in so many words, of course, but you can just tell that behind those bulging eyes is a brain steeped in the melancholic humour of doubt. Oh, they are very good at diagnosing ailments the very existence of which many patients deny. But not so good at diagnosing ailments for which no high-priced

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-67411941364620753652007-05-07T15:37:00.000+10:002007-10-15T21:40:42.689+10:00

I am employed by a firm of consultants. My office is in the middle of the alfresco dining area of a luxury hotel. I am happy. I feel good. I am not concerned about the fact that my office is in a terrible mess: papers everywhere, ashtrays full of butts and ash, and strange green caterpillars crawling all over the back of my chair. The caterpillars have long, bristly hairs. Could they be dangerous

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-38839779983793368832007-04-29T20:22:00.001+10:002008-04-06T09:46:52.189+10:00

Paulie was a small ugly kid with fat red lips and ginger hair and pimples. He lived with his mother in a shabby little house on the wrong side of the tracks. His father had died in an industrial accident soon after Paulie was born. The kids at school didn't like him and teased him a lot. They called him a "poor little mommy boy" because his mother waited outside school every afternoon to walk

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-5647798132971649092007-04-29T18:26:00.001+10:002008-03-30T00:12:30.613+11:00

Once upon a time in a country called Elbonia, there lived a politician who had been voted into High Office by the people in his electorate to represent their interests and help ensure a safe and happy world for their children and their children's children, and their children's children's children.At the outset of his career, the Politician wanted to help people and make a better world. But as his

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-22841111175419567302007-04-04T23:57:00.000+10:002007-06-10T13:30:25.564+10:00

Once there was a man with no face whom everyone loved because they didn't have to (in fact couldn't) express their love to his face. They called him Faceless Freddy. In turn, he loved everyone who loved him, because he couldn't face the prospect of not loving them. Sadly, however, one day Faceless Freddy found his face. From then on nobody recognised him and so ultimately they killed him because

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-4358659633220764222007-04-04T22:30:00.000+10:002007-06-10T13:32:42.307+10:00

One day the Devil came across a bunch of kids playing marbles. (Remember marbles? No, not mobiles, marbles.) "Hey kids mind if I join you?" the Devil asked politely, (but inwardly smirking at the prospect of roasting a few kids for lunch).They didn't mind so the Devil squatted down on Zer goatish haunches and played marbles with the kids. But the kids were too good for the Devil --- they kept

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-50997268495500420802007-04-02T11:22:00.002+10:002010-01-01T12:42:06.333+11:00

These could be the most remarkable words every written. Forming the thoughts that could change the course of history is a mind full of the excitement of discovery, mine. Holding the pencil is a hand, mine. The story is about a girl sitting on a bunk bed, writing with a pencil into a spiral bound A4 notebook. Flowing from her mind are abstract thoughts. Her thoughts flow and crystallize into the

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-45356095642442750922007-03-24T20:58:00.001+11:002008-03-20T11:34:48.711+11:00

On the day that Little Jonnie turned eleven, his mum and dad died. Mad with grief he embarked upon a trail of death and destruction unparalleled in history --- past or future. Inevitably, the Authorities became aware of Little Jonnie's exploits, and a posse was formed to track Little Jonnie Down, and if posse bill, capture him alive. After a long and merry chase, The Authorities finally cornered

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-5707303356184590092007-03-11T19:14:00.000+11:002007-06-10T13:40:57.679+10:00

This is the true story of Ulrig Hausmarten, according to what he had read before hearing the truth from his own lips.He had been born in a little fishing village, in the far north, the icy north. Where the fjords are green, the glaciers white, the maidens pink, and the dolphins play among the frozen corpses of dead boys. (‘Twas the custom of the barbarians to permit only the first born son of any

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-88610651013092162992007-03-11T14:07:00.000+11:002008-12-12T05:44:48.545+11:00

Baron Ludwig von Cuckenhagen had no ears but that wasn't the greatest of his faults. Nor, indeed, was his gargantuan appetite for raw chicken legs--or drumsticks as they were called in ancient times--on which he daily munched without interruption. No, his greatest fault lay in the enervating quality of his voice and gaze, both of which he applied to optimum effect whenever he could.Now in those

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-11745340716649099472007-03-10T14:20:00.000+11:002007-06-10T13:44:37.840+10:00

It begins with the birth of a child, a special child, me. It is a tale of love and hate, good and evil, night and day, truth and lies. It is the tale of a quest for something so precious, so unique, that its existence is known only to one entity in all of the multiverse, me.How I can begin to describe the horror of that day in December 1955, the fifth to be exact, when the tail of a monstrous

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-8360776394836728002007-03-10T14:03:00.000+11:002008-02-09T14:33:40.820+11:00

Lost, the Seeker wandered through the endless desert maddened by thirst. Tongue grotesquely swollen he climbed the highest mountain. Eyes horribly bulging, he swam the deepest sea. Aeons spent he searching this and other worlds, seeking the transcendent …seeking completion …seeking that which cannot be named, cannot be expressed. Lost, the Seeker sought.At the top of the highest mountain, at the

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-34967640729328790682007-03-10T12:44:00.000+11:002007-06-17T12:20:53.375+10:00

You are in the chamber of The Shining Waterfall. Visible exits lead N, S, E, W, U and D. You see: Nothing.sYou go South. Visible exits lead N and S. You see: Nothing.sYou go South. You are in the Chamber of Despair. Visible exits lead S. You see: Nowhere Man, a yellow submarine.sYou can not go South. Nowhere Man blocks your way. You are in the Chamber of Despair. Visible exits lead S. You see:

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-57471881740200207102007-03-09T06:24:00.000+11:002007-06-10T13:54:34.008+10:00

Some paintings have messages written upon them. Some of those messages are meaningful, some cryptic. Some are unreadable. Therefore, to help painting viewers gain a deeper understanding of those paintings and their messages, this post is a transcript of some of the more important but less meaningful messages carried on some of those paintings."Once upon a time in a country in a land that you may

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-2944807820528207072007-03-07T06:19:00.000+11:002008-12-12T05:44:49.081+11:00

If there was anything that FictBot enjoyed more than the sparkling green and blue lights of the Domain of Adverbs, it was the wistful, tinkling music of the Syntax Engine meandering through the crystal forests of the Valley of the Nouns. But not this timeslice. Because never before had FictBot received a summons from the Plot Comptroller. And nor had any of zer friends, including Avi the Avatar,

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-67330883422550421922007-03-06T23:59:00.000+11:002008-01-24T06:53:19.374+11:00

Once upon a time there was a lazy man, the laziest man in history. His name was Henry Peter Gaines. He was so lazy that he couldn’t even bother to do the things he enjoyed doing like eating and watching television because it was just too much effort. He was so lazy that he found it an ordeal to do nothing but mooch around the house all day long in his dirty underpants munching pistachio nuts and

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-63646993543024665722007-03-06T23:54:00.000+11:002008-02-09T14:28:12.588+11:00

One day, advanced extra-terrestrial beings from another galaxy came to Planet Earth. This was not the first time the aliens had come to the Planet, so they were very surprised at the dramatic extent to which the level of bio-diversity had fallen since their last visit. Every single one of the species that they had previously identified as having potential for self consciousness, had seemingly

masterymisterynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8140642862434351782.post-70352560006858601272007-01-16T22:47:00.000+11:002007-12-16T22:49:01.437+11:00

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