Ridiculous as it may seem, the odds that this mindbogglingly disturbing event is unfolding even as you read this blog are really quite high. Imagine him: poor, foolish Hank, thinking that his feeble fork will have any power over the natural force of gravity as it pulls on the rebellious soup. He may have suffered a recent concussion, or maybe he hails from a foreign nation that has not yet developed the miraculous spoon. Whatever the context, Hank is more than likely real, and he is undoubtedly extremely confused as to why his dinner seems to escape his eating utensil like a mercurial broth phantom time and again.
Maybe you're about to eat dinner yourself. You may be preparing to chow down on a hearty T-bone, or a light fluffy quiche. But think of the unfortunate and more-than-likely-real Hank, pawing like an inbred dachshund at his bowl of soup with the quaint tines of his titanium trident of shame, sitting hungry at his table. And then think about the law of Infinite Possibility, with all of the optimistic probabilities that it guarantees: world peace, universal equality, untold riches and infinite happiness. But the glass of infinity is half empty too. Hank is there. He thinks a fork will work. And just as the unending nature of the future promises the arrival of good things, it also heralds the bad.
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