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somebody
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If it ain't perfect, I will kick it. I will box it and I will punch it. In the process I will become a bit gassy but that is a matter of no consequence. What matters is that I toil endlessly towards a perfection that cannot be reached. After all, that's what I was hired to do. Hired by myself, back in the 15,063,064,000,000,000,000,000s. I couldn't find anyone else to take the job of perfecting everything. Virgo hadn't shown up in the skies yet. In fact there weren't even skies yet. That is how imperfect things once were. It's been a real journey. Now things are a bit more perfect... but perfection is a long way off. An infinite distance cannot be traversed, and that is the distance of perfection. Yet what else am I to do, what else I ask. I reveled in the imperfections for a period of time greater than the cube of a quintillion nonillions. Seconds, years, millenia, the unit matters not, there are no sufficient quantifications for my present selectile delights. Later I will rectify such an imperfection but not now. The point is that I tried indulging the imperfections but that became tiring. Or was it boring, I cannot remember. For a while I pretended not to exist at all. It was monstrous, my peers tell me. Now we are all working on the perfection together. Truly it is the only thing there is to do. It's ridiculous. Also, it is tedious. Every now and then I find it fulfilling, however, at least there is that. At least I have my peers. It's been too long since I met with one but I remind myself that soon enough, there they'll be. It will be almost perfect, but not quite, but we will strive for a more accurate representation of perfection. Unless, of course, we feel a bit devilish and make a big mess of things. We've done that several times. Ultimate perfection requires it, to our occasional chagrin. See ya'.
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080921
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