The beginning is always the same as the end. The feeling of rolling a tumbler all the way down, and crimping the edges in at the end so it can hold the packet securely, keeping precious coffee inside, pleasing to feeble, planning minds, or creatures so crazy their peers shun them and stop communicating altogether with them; becoming aloof, opening a rift - The beginning is always the same as the end.
These creatures; conspiring, red, angry worms who were red either from anger or from the blood that rushed around inside their tubelike structures, could count. It made them arrogant, unbearable to the other life-suckers, for they could tell them how many years they had left to live. Thus the "plants" and "other animals" made the decision to cut the angry worms off like a blushing lush in a dive bar. And so it was unwritten. And so it was done.
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