Mm-mm Good.
5 January 2008 17:27![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skonen_bladesI wouldn’t even call it murder.
Those beings had all of the self-preservation instincts of a wet sock. I think they ended up becoming the dominant life-form on that out-of-the-way planet just because there was never anything to oppose them.
They didn’t fight their way to the top of the food chain. They sauntered. Slowly.
Fat and affectionate little creatures, vegetarians, and possessing a wide variety of colours that seemed to have no effect on mate choice or camouflage. They seemed to be pretty and colourful for the sheer joy of being pretty and colourful. They had no fear.
They had lots of sex in between naps. As far as we could tell, that was the entirety of their social structure.
The whole planet surface was covered in the soft, green weeds that they fed off of. It was a loamy bed, plentiful enough to sustain the population no matter how big it got. The mountains weren’t high and the oceans weren’t deep. It was a simple ecology that the experts back on Prime would have said was too simple to be possible but there it was.
The creatures were tasty and trusting. Kind of a bad combination, really. Historically speaking, I mean. You’d think we would have learned from the Dodo, the cow and the chicken but you know how it goes.
The planet was cleaned out in a decade. Their meat went from plentiful to a delicacy to endangered to rumour. The weeds, with nothing to control them, quickly ran rampant to the point that their own waste gases choked the atmosphere into a thick fog that was baked by their system’s sun.
The plants died, the atmosphere burned off, and it became a rock in the shape of a planet.
There are rumours of cloning farms that rescued small samples of the wee beasts and serve them to the super-rich in mythical restaurants.
Maybe true. I don’t know. I remember them, though. Delicious.
tags
Those beings had all of the self-preservation instincts of a wet sock. I think they ended up becoming the dominant life-form on that out-of-the-way planet just because there was never anything to oppose them.
They didn’t fight their way to the top of the food chain. They sauntered. Slowly.
Fat and affectionate little creatures, vegetarians, and possessing a wide variety of colours that seemed to have no effect on mate choice or camouflage. They seemed to be pretty and colourful for the sheer joy of being pretty and colourful. They had no fear.
They had lots of sex in between naps. As far as we could tell, that was the entirety of their social structure.
The whole planet surface was covered in the soft, green weeds that they fed off of. It was a loamy bed, plentiful enough to sustain the population no matter how big it got. The mountains weren’t high and the oceans weren’t deep. It was a simple ecology that the experts back on Prime would have said was too simple to be possible but there it was.
The creatures were tasty and trusting. Kind of a bad combination, really. Historically speaking, I mean. You’d think we would have learned from the Dodo, the cow and the chicken but you know how it goes.
The planet was cleaned out in a decade. Their meat went from plentiful to a delicacy to endangered to rumour. The weeds, with nothing to control them, quickly ran rampant to the point that their own waste gases choked the atmosphere into a thick fog that was baked by their system’s sun.
The plants died, the atmosphere burned off, and it became a rock in the shape of a planet.
There are rumours of cloning farms that rescued small samples of the wee beasts and serve them to the super-rich in mythical restaurants.
Maybe true. I don’t know. I remember them, though. Delicious.
tags