soy and hula hoops

Today was just one ironic happening after another. Like tumbling, laughing-themselves-sick dominos. Because I prefer not to directly disclose the said events, I'll transform the entire day into a huge, sickening metaphor.

So yeah, here we have an old, shrunken Japanese man, content with his soy farm and ninety-nine cats. For decades, he has enjoyed cultivating his soy into cubes and trucking it to various traditional Japanese restaurants surrounding the business district of Tokyo. Despite this, for years the joyous soy farmer has secretly aspired and dreamt of cultivating his soy into spheres instead of the customary cubes, as spheres hold a strong element of visual appeal. However, the soy farmer has always been hesitant and somewhat frightened of performing an act so outrageous and rebellious of Japanese culture. His parents spent much of their natural lives attempting to mold their son's head into a sphere in order to sell him to the underground circus, and therefore the humble soy farmer has maintained not only an instant rejection of anything spherical, but an undeniable fascination as well. This year, the soy farmer resolved to follow through with his invention of spherical soy, and was excited to discover that a company was willing to purchase this said soy in June, as that is the time when soy is the most supple. Much to the soy farmer's frustration, flooding that year dirtied and weakened his soy crops. In order to compensate, he created a spin-off of his previous invention: bite-sized, spherical soy treats for the elderly, considering their taste buds are pretty much shot in the first place and they wouldn't notice the poor quality in the taste department. The farmer worked his little Japanese ass off until June arrived, slaving over his soy crops to ensure that he could cultivate them to the best of his ability.

And now I'm getting damn sick of converting every godforsaken detail into soy and elderly Japanese farmers and spheres, so I'll conclude the above story by claiming that the soy farmer's entire farm suddenly exploded one day, allowing the farmer to narrowly survive and regain consciousness in a puddle of what was once soy. With his soy farm went his annual income, thus condemning the farmer to failure and poverty. He committed suicide a month later, depressed over his pitiful lack of soy. From then on, he haunted the remains of his soy farm, causing the rubble to explode at random whenever his wrath happened to be incurred.

Oh, right, and because the results of this quiz (a quiz that says jack-shit about my personality, actually) I took yesterday fooged with my layout, the results are depicted here for your utmost viewing pleasure. Personally, I'd like to know what the hell that guy's planning on doing with that hula hoop.