From the primeval sludge, a lump arose.

Quoth the lump, "Okay, get outta my way, I got stuff to do, places to get to!"

Right merrily did the lump trapse over the new landscape, marvelling at all there was to still learn about, sometimes overwhelmed by the task of all the knowledge that need be accumulated.

Like the early mycologist, this lump would collect, label, and categorise all the information she did encounter. She also stored it all in a little basket.

As this lump, now identified as at very least being female, would journey about, she would encounter those who would marvel at her very form. There were those, too, who would marvel at her basket, and the contents thereof, and her capacity to gather them.

And they spake unto her, "We would have you as our deity of choice, O benevolent metaphorical mycophile!"

And like a torrental clap of thunder from the very heavens, she spake unto them, "Now don't you get any funny ideas".

Quoth she, "Behold, I am Cosmo Bimbo, almighty lord of Onomonapoetia! Before me, the might tremble! The humble pee their pants! Everyone else is just scared silly!"

"But don't you DARE think of worshipping me!"

"You know, I need the opportunity to screw up every once in a while, too."

And thus did the legend that is Cosmo Bimbo come into an ironic existance.

© 1998 cosmobimbo@hotmail.com

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