Suffice it to say, this day was another adventure and not one for the weak willed!
The televising machine made an odd sort of whine and showed me nothing but a silent, black Kyle cursing silently to a silent, black Eric on a silent, black background. It was disconcerting at first, but several hours of patient study yielded fruit as I was able to finish the uproarious episode in complete bliss, unchallenged by the narrowed breadth of expression afforded by viewing only what the author intended! What a coup d'etat! Free from such stigmata I was able once again to ponder the duality of the scrumptuous, yet strangely venemous yam-scorpions.
Still, the steel trap of my mind refused to let go this notion of creation: humanity, or my conception thereof, needs something! The horse-human-onion proved a failure from their eerily child-like faces and that no matter how many times you tried to peel it off, there was another face right beneath. The washing machine-honey bee concept suffered a failure of scale, for though it could wash and fold (and coat in a high-density wax sealant) a full week of laundry in under 40 minutes, they were too large to fly under their own power and their subsequent depression over this fact led them to sullen bouts of drinking and they failed to find mates and reproduce their noble yet flawed race.
I had such hope for the yam-scorpions! With a mere 14 month underground gestation, they were to scuttle forth, able to live and grow in quite harsh environs, able to defend themselves from any hungry vegetarians with their lethal venom and 14 inch stingers, and capable of feeding a family of four in great style, what with their sweet, orange flesh and high beta-carotine content. But rebellion must have her own and they turned out to be quite irascible and much more intelligent than I had intended.
In any case, it would be time for something much more useful. I shall have to give more thought to this.
