The Petri Dish Kids
Once upon a precise ass time of 22 years, 5 months, 2 weeks and 1 day ago there was a real bitchin’ day. On this day in some ward of some hospital somewhere, three teeny-tiny eggs were messing around in a petri dish. Well, I should perhaps note that there were actually thousands of those wee buggars floating about in that singular dish, but a particular trio is our focus here.
These three rabble-rousers were causing all kinds of mayhem amongst their fellow eggs. I should also note these weren't ya normal eggs from the good ole pulp carton, nor were they the golden glories of some fabled goose, nor the scrummy, sugary orbs from the dinosaur oatmeal you used to have as a kid and likely still have now.
Unlike humans formed from more natural means of conception, the eggs of this glorious petri dish were getting a sneak peak of the human world only a select few of them, if any, would one day inhabit. Thus, having not yet been bestowed with human names, they went by Q-tip, Rooskie, and Nut Nut in the interim of pre-life and baby birth.
Amongst the three of them, snot rockets and spit balls were shot around with wild whimsy. Poop jokes galore populated their every interaction. Rooskie generously liked the cheeks of all eggy passersby, Q-tip barrel rolled through crowds of unsuspecting brethren, and future pyromaniac Nut Nut lit every and any coexisting particle, amoeba, and molecule on fire with uproarious laughter. Aside from their guffawing and tomfoolery, Q-tip, Rooskie, and Nut Nut were otherwise impassioned by a singular objective - sabotage the rest of the field and usher their embryonic threesome to real life triplethood.
Their initial forays, as all grand schemes usually are, were thwarted by unpreparedness and other obstacles that only hindsight or foresight can prevent. Unfortunately, ovary eggs tend to be supremely deficient in both, and for that matter, all forms of sight really. Several of their beginning attempts saw exchanges like the following, with Nut Nut all the while equipped with enough combustables to form a new sun.
“Guys, guys, guys,” Q-tip said. “All these noobs keep going on about how we need some sort of fertilizer to make it out alive. Did either of you bring any?”
Rooskie replied with, “Nah bro did you?” and Nut Nut drooled and emitted some gurgling noise but otherwise just gave a spasmodic jerk of the head intuitable as a solid no.
Q-tip sighed and quipped “Freakin’ buns guys we gotta be prepared! I think there’s a farm or something nearby I can probably snag some from. We gotta amp up our game though yo. The next crack at this is all systems go.”
And now we’ve ushered the narrative to our precisely and perfectly bitchin’ day. Having studied their previous failures and armed themselves with all foreseeable riggings necessary, they stood ready to breach the barracks. Nut Nut had fashioned and outfitted them each with camouflaged flamethrowers which would be their primary weapon of attack. Side by side, as they would always be even if they went down swinging like mad, our three steadfast eggs each tossed back a shot of baby formula for luck and charged into battle with ravishing abandon.
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