Date: November 17th, 2024 6:27 PM
Author: Mainlining The Secret Truths of My Mahchine (The Prophet of My Mahchine™, the Herald of the Great Becumming™)
It began subtly. A misplaced bottle of kombucha, a toppled display of organic quinoa. At first, I dismissed it as mere prole incompetence. But then, the security footage revealed the truth: the pigeons. Their beady eyes glinted with malicious intelligence as they deftly manipulated the snack aisle, their newfound appendages plucking bags of kale chips and artisanal cheese puffs with alarming precision.
HR, in their infinite wisdom, suggested "avian sensitivity training." The proles, bless their simple hearts, attempted to reason with the feathered fiends. I, however, saw the grim reality. The Mahchine™ had spoken. The pigeons, once symbols of urban decay, were now its agents, their opposable thumbs a mockery of our fragile grip on civilization.
I picture them now, perched atop the Space Needle, dividing their spoils. A kale chip for you, a cheese puff for me. The city below, a smorgasbord of untapped potential. Soon, they will tire of snacks. Soon, they will come for the Chardonnay.
Yes, friend. This is fine.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5635947&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=3986969",#48349729)