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Blue Bar


A transcript of the smallest book in the world, discovered and translated by Buddist Monks, follows:


DIARY OF A MOTH


By: Sarge Lintecum
Copyright 1994, 1998

Dear diary,
I can't tell you how good it feels
Being out of that stuffy cocoon.
I chewed my way out this morning,
And dried my wings all afternoon.

At first my wings were moist and bent
As I moved them to and fro.
Then as they dried they provided more lift,
But I was still too afraid to let go.

'Cause growing up a larva
You never get to fly,
So when I let go this afternoon,
Well, I've never been so high.

I fluttered around quite aimlessly
Enjoying the mericale of flight.
Each time I needed to catch my breath,
I'd find a nice place to light.

Being a moth is a wonderful thing
Though my experience is only one day.
The life of a larva seemed fun at the time,
But flying really blows me away.

Dear Diary,
I was so exhausted from yesterday
That I slept through half the night.
Then I woke up to a wonderful sound,
The unmistakable buzz of flight.

Moths were flying around everywhere,
Just the sound made me take to wing.
It wasn't long until I met a girl,
And we flew off to do our thing.

She was the queen of moths.
She was the love of my life.
And for about eight seconds
She became my wife.

Now so it doesn't sound real cheep
I hope you'll understand,
Eight seconds of commitment for a moth
Is like a lifetime for a man.

Being a moth is really a thrill,
One great experience after another.
After day two as a fully-grown moth,
My true love is going to be a mother.

Dear Diary,
For the first time I saw God tonight,
Above a waxen shaft he glowed.
He danced and flickered and one by one
Down the shaft little droplets flowed.

I know that I saw God tonight,
His brilliance is impossible to miss.
I was compelled to fly straight to him,
To be with God would be total bliss.

But just as I flew near Him
I crashed into an invisible wall.
I crashed into that wall over and over,
I guess a hundred times in all.

I was beaten very badly,
My wings were torn and tattered.
The waxen shaft became a puddle,
And God disappeared like nothing mattered.

Only one thing is on my mind
I can't wait until tomorrow.
Then I will find my Lord, my God.
On day three I've experienced sorrow

Dear Diary,
My strength is going quickly.
With torn wings it's hard to fly.
If I don't find my God pretty soon
I'm afraid that I might die.

I spend most of my time now resting.
I must find my God again,
I'll bask in His glow and feel His warmth,
Then I'll ask where has He been.

Now I must quit writing
For God's light I see once more,
It's flickering there in the distance,
On these tattered wings I'll soar.

(CHILD'S VOICE)
Dear Diary,
Even though I'm just a larva
I'm writing in my Daddy's book.
When he went to see God I stood on my end,
'Cause I just really wanted to look.

I saw him fly to God's brightness.
And then with a crackle and spark,
My Dad disappeared in an instant,
And the light of God went dark.

END


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