Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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A Way to Take Part in the Humanity Around Me
Tue, 14 Nov, 2023 14.15 UTC

My name is Shambal Brambel and I enjoy spiking peoples’ urine samples with drops of vodka. You may ask why I would do such a seemingly cruel thing. Well, personally, I don’t find it cruel at all. I consider it one of the most benevolent acts I’ve ever participated in. Participate may be the wrong word to use since I carry out the whole shebang myself, but I shan’t edit the previous sentence because I can also consider the job (spiking peoples’ urine samples with vodka is no longer simply a thing or an act - it is my profession) a way to take part in the humanity around me.

Those that are my victims, though victim may be the wrong word to use since these humans receive a blessing, bring urine samples into our lab for various reasons, but mostly because they are forced to by their employers because in the past they have either been accused of being a “drug” addict or some sort of diseased misfit. I ensure that the results from our “lab” guarantee that the employers continue to find the victims or the blessed soiled. Consequently, the blessed are terminated of their employment - an employment that wasted their time and energy in any case. So, you see, these humans now have all the time allotted them each day to spend with their loved ones or to make art or to worship goats. In other words, they are once again a beneficial part of society.

A side affect of my calling (it is more than a mere job - in fact, it is a direct order for the almighty that I carry out my duty of spiking urine samples with vodka) is that the other “workers” in my lab, all of whom have been at some point in the past some sort of “drug” addict or diseased misfit, in the end cannot resist the temptation and binge on the vodka tainted urine. They stumble helplessly around the lab as I sit in my corner, contented that my deeds bring a soft, gentle glow to the galaxy.

Eventually, these hapless lab-rats of mine wean themselves off the alcoholic urine by moving step by step over to alcohol-free urine. They’ve even opened a “bar” around the corner that sells it on tap. Where they get all that urine, I am not tangibly sure, but I can probably guess.

The world and even the galaxy or so-called universe is a better place.

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2023 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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