The Craw Contemplates Shit

The Craw put down his third beer and paused, ready to contemplate the absurdity of life, when he was struck by the enormity of change around him.

It was his 42nd attempt to contemplate this particular absurdity, and the rusty gears in his head squeaked to a slow start, with several backfires and a small puff of exhaust. He casually pulled a small snack-pack of toasted badger spleens dusted in chili powder from the deep pockets of his tattered black cloak, and popped a handful into his waiting maw, and crunched the lot with a sublime look of pleasure on his otherwise frightening visage.

It was springtime in the Underworld, and the beautiful aroma of dying flowers and trees brought a certain deathly pleasure to his senses.

Underworld Spring

"Wow, I am actually contemplating shit," he thought to himself, since he usually ambled about without much contemplation whatsoever.

He was momentarily distracted by the word "whatsoever," since compound words brought a delicious sense of importance to his ego, even if they didn't quite roll off his decaying tongue with the grace that he always hoped for. Scratching his chin, and extricating a small rodent from one of the dents in his craggy face, he momentarily forgot that he was actually busy contemplating things.

Flinging the rodent aside without bothering to check whether it was a gerbil, hamster, or some sort of feral rabbit, it occurred to him that for once, he had no obligations to anyone but himself, and the thought brought a rush of exhilaration that raced up his spine and lodged itself somewhere between his shoulder blades and his cerebellum. Unable to dislodge the thought from its hiding place without causing severe damage to his existing nerve center, The Craw shivered with delight and tried to remember what it was that he was supposed to be contemplating....

Ah yes...the absurdity of life.

The Craw wondered if it was absurd to think about the word "absurd," which itself actually sounded rather absurd, when you really thought about it, which he never really did, so it struck him as particularly peculiar at this moment.

"How peculiar a word that is," he thought to himself, as he wondered if you could really think something to anyone BUT oneself. He decided to experiment, just to see how that would work.

Nevertheless, the Grouchy Porcupine

He quickly beckoned his grouchy pet porcupine, "Nevertheless," to his side and scratched him recklessly behind the ears, poking several large holes in his rotting fingers as he did so. Wincing with sheer delight at the pain, The Craw decided to think something to Nevertheless, and to test his theories. He figured that he should likely think something outrageous, so the reaction would be profound enough to measure, scientifically speaking.



"I am sexually attracted to herons and I once spooned a rabid marmot," he thought, not to himself, but to Nevertheless.

Nevertheless eyed him warily, and continued crunching the stem of The Craw's favorite indoor shrub, but did not appear to register any major surprise. Perhaps this was not shocking enough for a porcupine who was obviously jaded, and was likely attracted to herons himself.

"Hmmmm....unexpected," thought The Craw, this time to himself, just to make sure the whole "thinking" thing was working.

It was at that precise moment that he was distracted by another thought, which flung itself into his mind without even asking.

"I am tired of this small rant, but have forgotten how to end it."

In order to avoid having to write any further, or wrap this up in a nice tidy way, he simply ate his keyboard, and felt that should do it.

The damned thing could have used some BBQ sauce though....