the martian and the ohioan

The Martian and the Ohioan sit side by side on a piece of wood, looking at little things that buzz around.

The Martian has never seen anything like it.

“What’s that?” The Martian asks.

The Ohioan casually shrugs. “Meatballs.”

The Martian and the Ohioan sit side by side on a comfortable object that looks like an upgraded piece of wood, looking at other little things that buzz around.

The Martian has seen something like that, but it looks different.

“Are those meatballs too?” The Martian asks.

The Ohioan looks at The Martian, and raises one eyebrow. “Entropy.”

The Martian and the Ohioan are in Dreamland, when they walk into an intimidating looking thing with hair coming from all over the place on their face.

The Martian starts palpitating profusely.

“What’s that?” The Martian asks. “Entropy?”

The Ohioan laughs, then stands a little taller. “That’s me.”

The Martian and the Ohioan keep walking, until they have to stop to let a hard shelled overly slow thing waddle across.

The Martian wants to kick it.

“Is that also you? Because of the slow talking?”

The Ohioan looks perpetually offended, as he says, “That’s me because I am smart.”

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