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robotic mischief in the canal; little joey cyborg tinkers with centuries of chipped skeletons, a few left after the great civil war of the happy pappies...
they were a solid breed, well-aligned, good eyesight, fine farmers that knew a thing or two about perfect cornfields and big smiles despite daily spying on themselves and learning the secrets that each kept for their own medium salsas. when a severe summer left many paralysed with chapped knee seals they started to leak kinfluid that was responsible for their social accord. the kinfluid squirted or trickled off their boots, hit the ground and evaporated. sometimes the beavers would catch the squirts before they fell. the lucky beavers that did so were elevated to a state of eternal shrugging; they were unable to hold a position on anything. meanwhile, the happy pappies were growing restless with each other once they noticed a general homogeneity with their salsas, which led to accusations of spying and vociferations of disgust and mistrust. they began to steal from each other, burn a friend's tortilla chips, pluck one another's forehead daisies, some became so discordant they took to axes to rob fluid from those that were sleeping. hernando the judge was overwhelmed with complaints. the giant yellow fern at the town's center, their icon of establishment, was frosted over with mold, slime and gadflies. the remaining few that were still happy to simply be alive - those that retained their communal solidarity - soon developed a bluish skin around the wrist and could be identified from the dissenters. charlie the hardware supplier had sold all of his rakes, shovels and hoses, weapons. hoses you ask? they would spray pesticides on each other killing their forehead daisies on contact! the town was dying, the blue-wristed happy pappies were losing their group spirit, they were being separated from their insane friends and sad pappy neighbors who were commiting suicide left and right. they were all dying, all from spying, lying or overfrying. within weeks, the judge had no choice but a dignified exit, to issue a self-destructive ultimatum for his people. he ordered a mass immolation via the ancient shine and spark: each must pluck their forehead daisy and polish the wound with chicken broth. then a thumbs worth of purple gunpowder was snorted. when the sun was directly above their head, the noon howling began. this cacophony was the only trigger for the native explosive that jelled in their nostrils. only when the remaining happy members of the community reached that final resonating triumphant unifying howl harmony, they began to vibrate gleefully, their minds imploded and all of the integral kinfluid that was left in their bodies burst out of their ears to nourish the more deserving plants, vegetables and animals of the village.
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