Sliced Bread 2: The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

we had quite the little confab in the basement of the older boulder - that's the name of the bar - this afternoon. there was me and perseid and a rat and a couple of flies and a silverfish. casually, in conversation, perseid and i happened to mention that we were really human beings who had been transmogrified into a cat and a roach.

the rat nodded sagely. 'i was a human once,' he said. 'but i was bitten by an anchorman while playing pooleyball and when i woke up the next morning i was a rat. it's a damned shame. i had all the chicken bones i could eat when i was human. i used to buy them by the cartful.'

perseid and i exchanged a significant glance.

'i was a human just this morning,' said one of the flies. 'then it started to rain and the huge raindrops knocked all my hair and arms and shirts off and i was a fly underneath. my wife left me and took our hundreds of kids with her.'

'that's not much like what happened to me,' the silverfish said. 'i used to spend all my time watching the television engine and turning on electric lights. oh how i loved the electric lights. but my fatal mistake was newsweek magazine. i read it every week and became fascinated by the staples. so i started eating them. the children and the cactus and ronald mcdonald all laughed at me for eating staples. they laughed and laughed until i couldn't take it anymore and became a silverfish and now i don't like the electric lights anymore.'

'what the hell are you guys talking about qm' said the other fly. 'i've never heard such ridiculous stories in all my life. i know perfectly well that you were containers of seafood sauce before you were cats and rats and bugs. i know because i was the celestial minister of containers of seafood sauce and i had all your names down on my aluminum foil camel hump.'

'busted again,' said the rat. then perseid tried to eat them all and the conversation didn't really go anyplace after that.