In the days when their ball of mud was spinning to oblivion, they released the blurred and unconvincing pictures that were all they had of us.
Mother laughed. “They are trying to distract themselves from their doom,” she said.
Sssscrattt looked up from the game he was playing. “Will they die soon?” he asked eagerly.
Father tapped him firmly on his poll. “Soon enough my bloodthirsty loinfruit. But it is not for rejoicing.”
“Why not? They are stupid and ugly.”
“They might think the same of us. Why do you suppose we spend our lives floating in a tin can?”