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It is of my sound personal belief that the domain of the flying cabbage is in fact the god of the running cactus. I hold this truly because the prophecies written by the first grade class of the oyster went and followed the joyous beginnings of thousands of apples. In the end, various capitalist melons fell from the sky to leave us the coke cans of tomorrow. To that I say yes?!?! NO! I fall from the cup of greatness into the pudding filled jars of tomorrow, to discover the light that shines from the udder of contempt and hate. It is now that I find the showers of light and joyous beginnings drought the grass of failure.