quackking

There was a time when animals roamed the feeling veldt; when skysoarers mushed across a cloudy version of vulvae; when swimmers and skimmers coexisted in harmonious preprandial glee.

This is not that time.

The Consciousness, having arisen due to the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, being of at least two minds on the issue, has ruled. The ruling stands, unabeyed. The Ruling Power maintains its authority both through publishing, as in the Domesday Book of the Internet, and through carniverous punishment.

The final sound you hear is not teeth shredding flesh. It is a mewing, a quiet satisfied quacking.