True to my Form 4 almanac, circa 2003.
There was a pink velvet hippopotamus called Rupert. One day he was sitting on a log and thinking about life. He sneezed violently and a wad of fairy dust flew out of his nose. Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of Singing Mushrooms™ . They sang and danced around the log in red and yellow polka dotted skirts. They sang:
"Rupert Boyle, Rupert Boyle, he freed us from the dreaded mosquito coil, Rupert Boyle..."
Rupert was amazed, and even a litte jealous. He had never in his life been the proud owner of a red and yellow polka dotted skirt. His rage consumed his being, and he, opening his mouth wide, ingested them entirely, destroying an entire civilisation of mushroom thingeys.
Suddenly his stomach began to rumble, the seams of his velvet skin broke under the pressure and...the Singing Mushrooms™ erupted out of his stomach.
The Singing Mushrooms™ saw nothing but hatred, and, taking out tiny little weapons of mass destruction, blew the pink, velvet hippopotamus up into smithereens. Bits of blood and flesh flew around the clearing, staining the little mushroom's skirts bright blue. His polystyrene innards cascaded out. They reacted with ions surrounding the mushrooms and depolymerised to form poly 1,2 diethene. A sweet scent erupted from Rupert's bloodied carcass. The Singing Mushrooms™ narrowed their eyes. The fragrant fragrance that transpired into their surroundings, reminding them of Mushroomland™ in the springtime, could only mean one thing. This was the work of an ester!
"Come out!" called mushroom#1.
"Not on your life, buster!" bawled chief mushroom#2. "Poly 1,2 diethene is a deadly toxin! I don't want to die, but...ARRRGH!"
M2 was dead (so was M1). The other mushrooms cowered into the voluminous-ness of their skirts. Tears poured from their tiny liddle eyes. Their leaders were denatured. They were a stateless, leaderless species. What was to become of them?
"What is to become of us?" they wailed.
Then, from the violet tinged clouds came the answer to the questionability of their fate....
"YOU WILL DERIVE THE KINETIC THEORY OF MATTER!" boomed a loud voice from the sky.
"We will what?" asked mushroom#3, whilst the rest of them quivered in fear.
"YOU WILL DERIVE THE KINETIC THEORY OF MATTER!"
"WOW," gasped mushroom#4. "A talking cloud!"
Just then it started to rain. It came down in buckets, flooding the clearing to such an extent that Bangladesh looked dry in comparison. The Singing Mushrooms™ panicked, for, if exposed to excessive amounts of H2O, they would turn into varying different species of plants and animals, ranging from polpala to uranium stickchickens™ . They had not, however, forgotten about the violet tinged cloud, trailing its cool misty fingers through the forests ferny floor.
"Aah," said mushroom#27, an expert on biochemistry. "It appears that our purple saviour is slowly (but surely) respiring anaerobically to depolymerise to form varying compounds of which the main components present are H2O and sodium stearate!"
And surely enough, little soap bubble formed in midair, bursting to release a gentle fragrance that would have put Givenchy™ out of business.
"FOOLS!!" thundered the voice.
The little mushrooms (now differing species of plants and animals) jumped; those with poor balance landed on their heads and died. Then, as the fog thinned, the Singing Mushrooms™ spied the graceful, majestic figure of....
(To be continued)