Sitting at my home in Antarctica with my thousands of asexually reproduced children-selves, they jumped upon my knee and shouted with glee.
"Motherfather! Motherfather! O, do tell us a story, couldn't you, O Motherfather?" One asked.
"Oh, do let's." Responded offspring #368, who for some reason spoke like British children from the days of World War II.
"Oh, I suppose one little story couldn't hurt... too terribly, that is." I replied with a smirk.
***
"Alas, I am pregnant and no longer stagnant!" A young lady, Kaydee was her name, exclaimed in jubilee to her husband the great King Flea.
"Oh, what a time we shall have! What parties, what games! But I do wish I could taste a little of his brain." The great King Flea hopped as he sang.
"No, no blood shalt thy take, for he is my baby and from you he would break." Kaydee replied with fire in her face as she smacked the king in her child's place.
And one month hence from that day, the baby was born as a young flea prince. "Look at him, O King Flea! Look at his face!" The mother replied with a smile on her face. "Look at his face, he grins as you did when you won that race in my place!"
"'Tis true, a beauty is he, so surely I shall now suck some blood from his knee." Replied the great king Flea.
"No blood shall you suck, for I as I am his, he is to me. But what name shall he take? Who before him shall he emulate? Perhaps my uncle Steve or my great aunt Pete!"
"His name shall be Pete, for how like a potato doth he appear to me. How like a turnip he would grow from the dust, and make all others bend their knee as they smell his must!"
"A great flea shall he be."
And so that great flea Pete was taken to his abode on Rainy street. And so he did grow, and so he did cry, as a baby often does when it dies. But a strong baby was he, strong in his elbows and his tummy tum tree. But the great King Flea did lust and did taste, for the great blood that he would suck from his child's face. But his wife never did let him suck the blood from his face, so the flee waited and he ate paste as he paced.
"His blood is too tasty for me not to eat, and so I think I shall make myself a treat. What would one bite do, would he shatter? For my tummy doth rumble and with blood would my mouth not be gladder? And so I will fly and avoid this pitter-patter."
The great King Flea gave himself a treat as he flew to his scrumptious baby, sucking from him a delicious treat. And a bite he did take, and the baby's blood did splatter upon his cheek, like a geyser that shot from a peak. The baby was never aware that his father had been on such fleek. But the baby, having felt the blood taken from his body, did weep and did cry, and the great King Flea quickly did hide. He wandered around, for many hours hence, collapsing in the street, drunk from his sweet.
But when he did return to his throne he did gasp with terrible freight. His wife had left, which shattered his heart into two, for what the Flea had done he did not know, and was the cause of his fall down below. For alas and alack, the baby was a hemophiliac. And taking the blood from his body the child did fall... and so the great King Flea did take his life with a pillow and a sack, and never was the tale heard, of the Flea Pete Jack.
***
"So? What did you think?" I asked my children-selves, noticing one crying upon a shelf.
"That was a terrible story... so we must now lament and be sad." Replied clone #365, eating a snack. And so they hurried themselves off to bed, crying all the while, their tears falling upon their pillows.
Seeing such weakness of heart and mind, I thus took their lives with a thought in mind. If they are me, and I art them, how can we all be so different in the head? One may never know, no one may ever say, why the wheat is so different from the whey.
<to be continued...>
"Motherfather! Motherfather! O, do tell us a story, couldn't you, O Motherfather?" One asked.
"Oh, do let's." Responded offspring #368, who for some reason spoke like British children from the days of World War II.
"Oh, I suppose one little story couldn't hurt... too terribly, that is." I replied with a smirk.
***
"Alas, I am pregnant and no longer stagnant!" A young lady, Kaydee was her name, exclaimed in jubilee to her husband the great King Flea.
"Oh, what a time we shall have! What parties, what games! But I do wish I could taste a little of his brain." The great King Flea hopped as he sang.
"No, no blood shalt thy take, for he is my baby and from you he would break." Kaydee replied with fire in her face as she smacked the king in her child's place.
And one month hence from that day, the baby was born as a young flea prince. "Look at him, O King Flea! Look at his face!" The mother replied with a smile on her face. "Look at his face, he grins as you did when you won that race in my place!"
"'Tis true, a beauty is he, so surely I shall now suck some blood from his knee." Replied the great king Flea.
"No blood shall you suck, for I as I am his, he is to me. But what name shall he take? Who before him shall he emulate? Perhaps my uncle Steve or my great aunt Pete!"
"His name shall be Pete, for how like a potato doth he appear to me. How like a turnip he would grow from the dust, and make all others bend their knee as they smell his must!"
"A great flea shall he be."
And so that great flea Pete was taken to his abode on Rainy street. And so he did grow, and so he did cry, as a baby often does when it dies. But a strong baby was he, strong in his elbows and his tummy tum tree. But the great King Flea did lust and did taste, for the great blood that he would suck from his child's face. But his wife never did let him suck the blood from his face, so the flee waited and he ate paste as he paced.
"His blood is too tasty for me not to eat, and so I think I shall make myself a treat. What would one bite do, would he shatter? For my tummy doth rumble and with blood would my mouth not be gladder? And so I will fly and avoid this pitter-patter."
The great King Flea gave himself a treat as he flew to his scrumptious baby, sucking from him a delicious treat. And a bite he did take, and the baby's blood did splatter upon his cheek, like a geyser that shot from a peak. The baby was never aware that his father had been on such fleek. But the baby, having felt the blood taken from his body, did weep and did cry, and the great King Flea quickly did hide. He wandered around, for many hours hence, collapsing in the street, drunk from his sweet.
But when he did return to his throne he did gasp with terrible freight. His wife had left, which shattered his heart into two, for what the Flea had done he did not know, and was the cause of his fall down below. For alas and alack, the baby was a hemophiliac. And taking the blood from his body the child did fall... and so the great King Flea did take his life with a pillow and a sack, and never was the tale heard, of the Flea Pete Jack.
***
"So? What did you think?" I asked my children-selves, noticing one crying upon a shelf.
"That was a terrible story... so we must now lament and be sad." Replied clone #365, eating a snack. And so they hurried themselves off to bed, crying all the while, their tears falling upon their pillows.
Seeing such weakness of heart and mind, I thus took their lives with a thought in mind. If they are me, and I art them, how can we all be so different in the head? One may never know, no one may ever say, why the wheat is so different from the whey.
<to be continued...>
