For she was about to meet the knight in shining armor she had long dreamt of. Unknown to her, however, her noble agricultural-scientist-pirate-relative was about to turn her into a marvelously aromatic chaotically active chimerical apsara (macaca).

Which, as it turns out, was a fortuitous coincidence, as her new beau was none other than Ouroboros, whose hunger for some tail–any tail–tempted him with his own. His Kekulic dreams could finally be satisfied. An apsara for a Gandharava: how fitting! The gaping hole in my chest is now filled with clouds, with the ocean itself.

I shall die happy, in my bed, surrounded by bottles of Aquafina perfused with bisphenol. Call this…My Chemical Romance.

‘Beti, they are from MacacaStan.’

‘Do they lean left or right in their ideologies?’

‘Beti, if they lean either way, they would fall off the tree’.

Lord of the Dings:

You remind me of my second son Hardeep.Always a bit edgy:

Link

‘Where do macacas come from?’

‘Beti, they are from MacacaStan.’

‘Do they lean left or right in their ideologies?’

‘Beti, if they lean either way, they would fall off the tree’.

For she was about to meet the knight in shining armor she had long dreamt of. Unknown to her, however, her noble agricultural-scientist-pirate-relative was about to turn her into a marvelously aromatic chaotically active chimerical apsara (macaca).

“How was it?” Coot-tha ran over to Billee. Coot-tha looked like a well-dressed man in his thirties. In reality, he was a dog. Literally.

“Ok, more pseudoscience, and my grin keeps staying stuck behind. We have to work on that. Also, wasn’t I supposed to come back as a little boy?”

Coot-tha chuckled, and where his tail would normally be, wagged pressed blue trousers. “Everything is off today. Come, let’s go get this over with. You should probably put something on.”

dude, i’m so crushed didn’t continue by anti incoherent science rant story.

so pouting right now.

Soraya was staring at me over a mound of bubble wrap. “I’m awake!”

“Sure you are Papa. You only mumble about pirates, cats, and wormholes when you’re awake!”

I rubbed my eyes. “I guess I dozed off. What did I miss?”

Anjali smiled knowingly at me. After 30 years of hearing me yammer about god-knows-what in my sleep, nothing surprises her anymore. “Our beti is going to be liquored up for life. She got yet another four martini glasses from the Patels, Sonal’s parents.”

I glowered at Soraya. “More? How many did you ask for?”

She looked pleadingly at me. “Papa, you don’t understand. They were all so beautiful, and it really felt like maybe one day I’d need thirty.” Her voice dropped off at thirty, as if maybe I wouldn’t hear.

Upon reaching the island, the felonious feline threw off it’s furry rainment, shook away the base, animal instincts and forsook the dry, impotent science of it’s birth. It was now the radiant woman–unfettered by scientific jargon and socially awkward chemical equations–the pinnacle of our human condition, dressed only in the sweat of her emancipation.

“What is the uncertainty principle?”

“I’m not sure. Anyway, Schroedinger’s prediction was that the cat could be either dead or alive, so it must be dead and alive.”

“Did it have nine lives like other cats?”

“Yes, but if it was radioactive, it would have 18 half-lives.”