Once upon a time in a land not too far away, there lived a tiny, little nation of tiny, little people. They were an happy and industrious people and they marched about all day long on their tiny, little legs, doing their tiny, little jobs in their tiny, little workplaces. Then one day, the skies above their tiny, little heads turned dark and soon heavy rain poured down upon them. Rain, rain and more rain came down as tiny, little homes were flooded and tiny, little people were swept away by the cruel, uncaring waters. The tiny, little people were so distraught that they were unable to work and life was no longer quite so happy anymore in their tiny, little world. The tiny, little people were not quitters, though.
“We might be small but we won’t give up!” they shouted as they shook their tiny, little fists.
And so they rolled up their tiny, little sleeves and found a nice, dry place and began to make a new home for themselves. They loved their new home with all their tiny, little hearts. The land was beautiful with a mild climate and each day yielded plentiful amounts of food for their tiny, little tummies.
One day, a few tiny, little people stumbled across a vast, previously undiscovered land, full of the choicest, most delectable fruits and sweet, sweet waters. With tiny, little cries of joy, the tiny, little people called their friends and, as one, they all began to feast. They ate and they ate until their tiny, little bellies were near to bursting. And then they ate some more. As they gorged themselves on the wondrous feast, a few especially alert citizens pointed at the sky.
“Look!” they shouted. “It’s a miracle!”
And surely it was a miracle. Even as they watched, greater and greater quantities of food descended from the heavens. Tasting the new food, the tiny, little people all agreed – this was the sweetest ambrosia yet. Giving thanks to their tiny, little deities, the tiny, little people rejoiced and filled their bellies even more.
“If this proves anything,” said their tiny, little leader, “it’s that God loves us very, very much and has rewarded us for our industrious natures.” And except for a few tiny, little people with upset stomachs, all agreed.
“You just ate a bit too much,” their neighbors said to the few naysayers. “Rest for a bit and soon you’ll feel just fine!”
But in spite of rest, the naysayers didn’t feel just fine. They didn’t feel fine at all. In fact, more and more of their tiny, little neighbors also began to suffer from stomach aches.
“You just ate a bit too much,” their neighbors said to the increasing numbers of naysayers. “Rest for a bit and soon you’ll feel just fine!”
But they didn’t, either. Soon, all of the tiny, little people realized that something was very, very wrong. And something was very wrong, indeed, as inside their tiny, little tummies, the sweet ambrosia was slowly dehydrating them. As it did so, sharp-edged crystals formed and began to lacerate their tiny, little digestive tracts.
“Why, God? Why do you torment your people so?” they cried in their tiny, little voices as they writhed in pain.
Nothing they did seemed to help at all and so they gazed toward the skies and waited, seemingly in vain, for an answer. Finally, a voice like thunder roared down from the heavens in reply…
“Keep the hell out of my pantry!”
And, with any luck, every last one of the tiny, little fuckers died horrible, painful deaths.