WEBVTT

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"Seven."

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One torn, green, triangular
corner of the murdered

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Slap-of-Wack bar blows
across the desert,

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eventually coming
to rest in a cactus.

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Panning in, we see that the
torn green corner is still

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breathing.

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Over the next few hours,
its breathing stabilizes.

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It's alive.

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It will live.

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Stuck in the cactus hour
after hour, day after day,

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full of shame and
rage, the torn corner

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has a series of deep spiritual
realizations concerning

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the true nature of that
supreme power which

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brought it and everyone else
and everything it's ever

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known into existence
and is the sole reason

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for their continued existence.

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What does this power want?

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It doesn't know.

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How could it know that?

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It's just a torn corner.

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But surely there's a plan
for it, he can feel it.

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They are born into vignettes
and these vignettes

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are their homes.

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These vignettes are what
gives their lives meaning.

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If they were not intended to
do their vignettes in exactly

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the way they do
them, why would they

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feel so strongly inclined to
do them in that exact way?

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Therefore, the way
to live righteously

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is to enact one's vignette
with as much energy as possible

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and oppose as
fiercely as possible

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those who would undercut
the proper enactment

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of the sacred vignettes.

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This is one way,
perhaps the only way,

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for a lowly being
such as himself

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to be in touch with
the supreme power.

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Take me, it prays humbly, make
me more open to your purpose.

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Suddenly, it feels a great surge
of power filling it, changing

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it and its former identity
as the rear corner

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of a Slap-of-Wack bar
is all but forgotten,

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subsumed in this new
and greater identity.

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Over the next week,
via constant prayer,

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the corner more than
quadruples in size

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and begins to suddenly glow,
while attempting to free itself

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from the cactus via a
series of energetic forceful

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shrugs, each of which
leaves it utterly exhausted.

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But finally, it's free
and falls to the ground.

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After several days of being
blown around indiscriminately

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by the wind, the corner
learns to adjust its posture

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in such a way that it can
control its trajectory.

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Soon it actually learns to fly
via kind of punching itself

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in the middle while
simultaneously

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straightening its neck.

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Over the next few
weeks as it practices

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flying during the
day and meditates

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on these great new
truths at night,

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it is gradually almost
imperceptibly transformed

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from a mere green
plastic cellophane corner

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into a beautiful glowing
oblong green triangular symbol.

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