messing_with_a_good_thing raze he had this thing. and it was good. he thought he would poke and prod at it, to see if it could be seduced into giving up its hidden truths. he wanted to know what made it tick. what made it what it was. so he poked. and he prodded. came a time when the thing got fed up with being disturbed, and it turned. if the thing had a face, its lips would have festooned its cheeks with a carnival of contempt. if the thing had fists, they would have been loaded pistols waiting to fire. if the thing could speak, it would have said, "you couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" the thing didn't have a face, or a chamber beneath it to generate sound. it didn't have fists. it was just a thing. it wasn't a good thing anymore. 130611 what's it to you? who go blather from