Hydrogen: I'd imagine the fly version of Christianity would have some subtle yet important differences.
Trillaphon: In the name of the Father, the Son, and the giant heap of dung behind the garden center, amen.
Hydrogen: The Passion of the Christfly, starring Jim Cabeezel.
Trillaphon: That first diorama isn't very impressive, it's less a realistic battle scene and more a medieval Playmobil set with a bunch of dead flies randomly glued to it.
Trillaphon: The fly church, on the other hand, he could probably sell to the Guggenheim for at least a cool 30 million.
Hydrogen: The MoMA presents: an evening with fat baby Hitler and his big pile of dead insects.
Trillaphon: Oh god yes please, I sure hope the exhibit centers around a 60-minute looping video presentation that's just endless extreme close-up shots of his horrible pudgy face as he plucks half-dead flies off of things and puts them onto other things. That's what the public wants to see.
Trillaphon: You know, instead of being a fly-obsessed budding psychopath, maybe he's really just getting a big, big head start on his insect collection for 9th-grade biology. He'll be the only person to turn in 80,000 dead houseflies and half of a grasshopper.
Hydrogen: He'll get an easy B-, in exchange for agreeing to take his collection away and never bring it back.
Evil Cooper and Chechen President Ramzan Kadyrov have both been on a rampage, but who did what?
"Your left eye," the optometrist casually explained while blasting my face with a blue laser at point blank range, "is farsighted and shaped like an eyeball. The other eye is nearsighted and shaped like a football. Not even a good football."
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