Stoner Thoughts 2

While up at the Lake last week, it struck me as odd: those atoms have formed themselves into a medium of life that is a tree. And those atoms have formed into a medium of life that is moss. And so on and so forth, and some atoms ended up forming a medium of life that is me.

And it seemed like there should be a lounge somewhere, where atoms in between mediums would meet and take a load off. Some are smoking. There’s coffee/tea/hot chocolate.

“What’s your next assignment?”

“A dog. Welsh terrier.”

“Wish we could trade. I got grass again. I’m so frickin’ sick of plants.”

At one end of the lounge is a desk. Some very overworked bureaucrat atoms man the line, passing out the slips that tell the atoms where to go.

One lone atom picks up its new assignment, and hoots.

“DUDE! PANGOLIN!”

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