Kilgore Trout once wrote a short story which was a dialogue between two pieces of yeast. They were discussing the possible purposes of life as they ate sugar and suffocated in their own excrement. Because of their limited intelligence, they never came close to guessing that they were making champagne.--Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions pp. 208-9.
(Image from "universe-review.ca.)
2 comments:
I should see if I could find my old short-short story "You Are a Myxameoba."
Short stories are short, but short-short stories are short.
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