Monday, September 15, 2008


"You've had opposable thumbs and frontal lobes for how long now, and this was the best you could do? The air's a little warmer, the water's a little grimier, the atoms a little more agitated. You've been trying to kill yourselves for years and you're still here, I would have finished the job long ago."

"Salvation, do us a favour and shut up. I'm trying to concentrate over here."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Someone needs to. You're tired of them. I'm tired of your whining and anyway, they can't hear you. We're mounds of dirt, dirt my friend, nothing you can do or say will ever change that. In all of creation we drew the short straw."

"They were dirt too once, but they changed, everything changes if you wait long enough. My time's coming, I'm not salvation, I'm the apocalypse, I'm the harbinger of death. I'm a tectonic shift away from exploding fiery glorious destruction on this planet and all its life forms. This world doesn't need saving, it needs an extinction event and I'd love to start with this pathetic bunch right here."

"Blah, blah, blah."

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