Well, this continued for years, until Tuesday, when suddenly, all the empty plastic bottles had no where to biodegrade. “What’s biodegrade?” asked the jug.
“It takes thousands and thousands and thousands of years for plastic to dissolve into the earth,” said the trash bin, who could only count up to a thousand. “Amongst other things, like gas and boy band music, the earth is being poisoned by plastic.”
At that moment, the water jug looked at the earth, whose water was quickly drying up. “Help me,” said mother earth, “I only have a little bit of water left.”
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer jumped in, “I can save you, I will carry your water in my antlers!”
“That won’t work,” said Snow White, “We must collect the water with our hands and put it into this here jug.”
The last bit of the earth’s water dripped into the jug.
“Now go,” said Queen Latifah, “Go and water those plants, so you will evaporate into the air, condense into the clouds, and fall back down as rain.”
“Or precipitate,” said the water jug, “That’s the earth’s natural water, or hydrologic, cycle. Evaporation, Transpiration, Condensation, and Percipitation!”
“Yes it is, smarty pants,” said Shrek. “Although I love dirty swamps and even dirtier princesses, I too need clean water to live. That’s magical water you got there. It will clean and replenish the earth once and for all.”
“If I do this,” said the little water jug, “will mother earth live?”
“What, can’t you hear?” said Shrek, “I said it’s magical, but you must hurry.”
“I think I can, I think I can,” said the jug, wobbling over to some dying plants. How can I pour myself out, it thought? But then, the jug remembered that it was in a fairy tale, where anything could happen, if you believe. So, the jug believed in herself. “I’m proud to be me,” she said, clicking her ruby red slippers. Then, up she went, tilting, tilting, tilting, she was about to pour onto the flowers . . .
. . . but then, someone snatched her handle and poured her into two bottles. The smelly man blew his nose into one bottle, sealed it, and labeled it no bubbles. Then, the man farted and farted and FARRRR-Rat-a-tat-tat-RRRTED! into the other bottle, quickly sealing it, and then, labeling it bubbles. “There we are,” he laughed, “I can make some sweet money off of this!”
At lunch time, eager diners quickly snatched up the plastic bottles. “Smooth and refreshing,” said one, while the other took a sip and said, “Mine tastes like fart.”
Moral: Exploit the earth while you can make a buck, so you can buy a Porsche.
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