The angry mob of flies marched across the countryside, destroying everything in sight. Fortunately for the non fly populous, due to poor lighting conditions everything in sight consisted of a dead tree stump and one of the flies’ own houses. Such matters did no deter the angry mob, they kept on marching towards the dim glow of civilization over the hill. However when they reached the peak they discovered that the glow originated not from civilization but from their own torches being help by future versions of themselves. The flies past selves conferred with their future selves and determined the best course of action would be to send the future versions ahead while the other group waited for their past versions to arrive (this was mostly determined by the future flies shouting “we’re older, thus listen to us!”). With the minor distortion to the space time continuum cleared up the future flies continued their pillagious march down the far side of the Mound of Temporal Anomalies! becoming ever closer to fulfilling their malicious intents of revenge and desire for chocolate dipped water.*
“Wait!” wailed Cobbler “Couldn’t we resolve this minor grievance without resorting to such ancient forms of barbarism?”
“Whatever do you mean there Cobbler?” inquired a well aged English looking fly “We were just aboot to stop in for a spot of crickolo**”
“What happened to the plot to punish the people for practically pushing use past alliterative possibilities?”
“Less alliterative possibilities? Surely such a savage scenario would result in storage in synapses.” Suddenly such a realization sunk in. “The truth you doth speak, to battle henceforth!”
And thus Cobbler fulfilled his destiny of restoring the tickle and ushering in an age of darkness, despair and laughter; for the second time this week!
The mob continued now with renewed determinations and re-lit torches towards the actual dim glow of civilization coming from the nearest pickle-purchasing place with torches held aloft chanting various war cries such as:
“Down with flooding, out with water!”
“Dis-tractors are devious!”
“Where’s my luggage?”
And so with much enthusiasm and a little confusion the mob loomed closer and closer to the ever diminishing dimness of light. As the mob grew close they saw the flowing sign:
Sadly due to the surrounding dimness the flies could only manage to decipher the anti-floral announcement. And so having received no message to deter them (all their flowers had been destroyed in the flood) the mob of angry and mildly inconvenienced flies moved onwards past the dim glow and into the light of the
