Dancing walrus

O, Walrus, thine viewing art the splendth of mine eye, thou art t'seen hence.

Ah, the humble walrus. Watch it, so majestic as it dances freely in the breeze. I salute you, sir walrus, your prominent whiskers, your mighty tusks, your colossal girth. The girth I find I love. I watch as it folds over and over into blubber, the blubber bouncing hypnotically. I find myself unable to look away, and yet, I taste my own vomit.

It is not pleasant, yet it is welcomed, in a chunky sort of way. I can never be sure exactly what color that vomit was, but I like to think that it is green, like the meadow. The beautiful meadow, where there has never been a walrus in all of time. Where the birds buzz, the bees chirp, and the rabbits cackle maniacally as they aim their death rays--the sounds of love.

The music plays

The first harmonious chord of music is played, and the walrus notices. The urge is there, welling up within the walrus's very soul, perhaps deeper, until it reaches the walrus's levitating heart. The walrus must dance. But the music plays and plays,

and plays and plays,

and plays and plays,

and plays and plays,

and plays and plays,

and plays and plays, until it can play no more and oblivion is at last consumed by the extrasensory perception of impending doom.

The music is music. The walrus is a walrus. My cellular telephone is a cellular telephone. My computer is a computer. My house is a house. The rug is a rug. My underpants are my underpants. My sick urge to kill everyone is my sick urge to kill everyone. Everything is everything. Nothing is nothing. Actually, that's not right. Well...yeah...yeah, it is. I LOVE DINOSAAAAUUUUURRRRRSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!1111!eleven!!11one!!1 <3<3<3(Those are hearts. Can you not see the emotional exuberance and fellosium?) And walruses, I love. LUVLUVLUVLUVLUVLUVLUVLUVLOVE.

It begins to dance

What's this? What, what? Tell me, tell me! Please, please! I, I want, want to, to know, know now, now. I'm I'm seeing seeing double double right right now now and and I I don't don't know know why why. Are are you you seeing seeing it it too too??

I lament for this world, and what it is coming to, which happens to be a dancing walrus. Look, watch as it dances, graceful and majestic, its folds of blubber bouncing hypnotically, drawing you into its bouncing. I only wish that the drawing were better. It's scribbles, really. Stupid, meaningless scribbles.

I hate the sky. Just look at it up there, all high and mighty. For some reason, it thinks it's above all of us. Damn you, sky, damn you!

But, back to you, my precious walrus. Or maybe not. I guess it got tired of dancing. Probably the sky's fault, stupid useless thing. I hate it, I really do. I'm coming for you, sky. You won't know when or where or how or why or when or where or why or how or where or when or how or why or where, but I'm coming for you. And then you'll regret whatever it was I'm angry at you for.

Conclusion

In conclusion, dancing walruses get me off.

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