这y are born in a flood of magma. They claw their way to the center of the earth. They don’t know what a blouse is, and they don’t care. There are seventeen constellations named for their kin. They coordinate all the Monday briefings. When they read the wrong books, they return them to libraries with bookmarks still inside. They have decided not to have piglets. They’re opposed to the question, “where is the healthiest seat on an airplane?” They call their mothers. They call out corrupt politicians. In fact, they make calls every day. They are good at advocating for what they want. They understand the difference between camouflage and communication. They do not dream of tumors in their flesh. They don’t reply to spam. Shovels are modeled after their mouths. The sound of drilling makes them nauseous. They use their perceived softness to their advantage. They can actually make holes in wood with their snouts. Which tells you something about softness. And persistence. They never ask for the “good friend discount.” They do appreciate the “old friend discount.” They are made of soap, a little plastic, and red dye #5. They believe putting books on a body is a healing act. Their memory is 251 million years old. They experience the world as time-lapse abundance. They can’t look up. At night when they are sleeping, wrestlers come. They don’t use the word “casualty.” They are excellent listeners. They don’t mind perpetually wet nostrils. When they relax, they make two figure fours with their legs. They never say, “nature is constantly surprising us.” For they remember the porcine age. They keep the entire planet in delicate balance. When they are angry they throw something extremely light, like feathers, or gods. They’re not sure there’s a big takeaway. Their ancestors spread fragments of the seven wonders all over the world. Over centuries they have carried them, in their bifurcated hooves. Rocks make them feel tender. They get high on dust motes. The worst insult is to be told they have “pigeon hands.” They are often the only ones at the light therapy station. They never shorten ‘yours’ to ‘yrs.’ What they want is simple. They have no vestigial organs.
我们的不眨眼的圣餐！ - 如何
让我失望 - 整个我的布丁。