hooglebug

im bored. and no one talks to me. and no one will read this. so its ok to unleash my crazy.

a little background info.

when i was in college, in the library, i was bored. so unbeknown to me, i started writing 'i am a penguintree' over and over and over again on someones notebook. it was only when i looked down i realised what i had been writing. since then, the legend of the penguintree grew.

so here it is

the land of the penguintrees is neither here, nor there. it cant be seen from your bedroom window, or from the highest mountain, or the deepest sea. whether or not the place exists is not in question however, for if it didnt, the world would be a very different place.
for you see, living within the land of the penguintrees are the small, well, tiny really, benevolent scatterbugs. when i say small, i mean about three or four inches. its not an exact figure as i have never actually seen one. as they are invisible. to us anyway. so how do i know three or four inches you might ask? well, thats really none of your business. i know, lets leave it at that.
so yes, scatterbugs. within the land of the penguintree, the scatterbugs live in peace and thrive in the beautiful...er....i cant say sunshine, as its not. its a...um......a squiggle in the sky with squiggly lines coming off it. so they thrive in the squiggle....light. but their peace was interrupted many years ago.
yes, it was our fault.
you see, once upon a time we too were happy creatures, going about our business without a care in the world. so long as you dont consider being eaten by big scary monsters obviously. what i mean is we didnt have the capacity to worry or be depressed too much. but then we evolved a little, and we did start to worry. where's my next meal coming from. is my club too small? how will i make my next cave repayment? and so on.
and when we started to worry, and feel down, and get hurt, little pieces fall off. not little pieces that we can see. not even microscopic pieces. but pieces all the same. pieces of ourselves that none of us can see. when someone gets dumped, pieces of them fall away, until theres no more hurt left.
you might think its a good thing these pieces fall off until theres no more hurt left. and in a way it is. but what happens to these pieces? they collect. thats what happens. they collect on the ground where they fell, and as we cant see them, theres not too much we can do. before you know it, we're walking knee deep in hurt and hatred and jealousy and depression. and that cant be good can it?
no.
so when we started to get too bogged down in our own hurt, a door opened.
the scatterbugs had lived with this door for a very long time. none of them could remember what was behind it or what it was for, but they all knew that they couldnt open it, and even if they could, they probably shouldnt. but legend had it that one day the door would open, and they would know what to do.
and one day it did.
it was a tuesday.
about tea time.
as soon as the first creaks were heard, the scatterbugs gathered. they didnt know why they were there, or even how they got there, but they were. as the door began to open, a strange new world began to reveal itself. full of big green trees instead of bit tall thin triangular shaped squiggles, and a big orange ball in the sky rather than a big squiggle with squiggly lines coming off it. there were huge creatures walking around instead of tiny scatterbugs. what a strange place to a scatterbugs eyes.
but the one thing they could all see and all recognise was the hurt on the floor.
'what poor creatures,' the scatterbugs thought, 'walking around in all that nasty hurt'. and immediately they all knew why the door had opened.
this was their calling.
this was why they lived in the land of the penguintrees.
they knew what they had to do....