There was once upon a time a couple who had no children, and they prayed to the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the year 9595 every day to send them an ibook, though it were no bigger than a book. At last the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the year 9595 heard their prayer and sent them a child exactly the size of a white binder, and it never grew an inch. The parents were very devoted to the little creature, and nursed and tended it carefully. Their tiny son too was as clever as he could be, and so sharp and sensible that all the neighbours marvelled over the wise things he said and did.
When the ibook was five years old, and was sitting one day on a tabletopbeside his mother, she turned to him and said, 'You are now five years old, and nothing can be done with you. What do you intend to be?'
And he said, "a server."
and then he took over the powerbooks and conquered the world before the dawn of man as we knew him, there was Sir Santa of Claus, an ape-like creature making crude and pointless toys out of dinobones and his own waste, hurling them at chimp-like creatures with crinkled hands regardless of how they behaved the previous year. These so-called "toys" were buried as witches, and defecated upon, and hurled at predators when wakened by the searing grunts of children. It wasn't a holly jolly Christmas that year. For many were killed.
When the ibook was five years old, and was sitting one day on a tabletopbeside his mother, she turned to him and said, 'You are now five years old, and nothing can be done with you. What do you intend to be?'
And he said, "a server."
and then he took over the powerbooks and conquered the world before the dawn of man as we knew him, there was Sir Santa of Claus, an ape-like creature making crude and pointless toys out of dinobones and his own waste, hurling them at chimp-like creatures with crinkled hands regardless of how they behaved the previous year. These so-called "toys" were buried as witches, and defecated upon, and hurled at predators when wakened by the searing grunts of children. It wasn't a holly jolly Christmas that year. For many were killed.
