Mr. Smee: Yammering

Hallo sonny!

I've been resting my eyes for some time now, and it has me thinking. There really isn't much else to do when resting one's eyes than think. Crashing into unseen objects was never a favorite pastime of mine.

It wasn't always that way. Back in my day, we didn't have Physics, we had Yammering. Now, Yammering was a science in those days, and it determined all sorts of phenomena. Lightning, tornadoes, and hurricanes (not that any of them were as they are today) all came about when someone didn't cut their Yammering.

Cutting Yammering was a very difficult task. The Yammering bush grew with great vitality and strength. One needed a very skilled hand to properly cut their Yammering. We didn't have any of your fancy schmancy attributes like "sharp" and "keen". We had yellow, and I tell you that my stick was as yellow as the best of them.

For many long years my occupation was "Yammering Cutter". I still hold the honorary title of Cutterhood for my many deeds in cutting Yammerings for people who were unable to do so themselves. Not that titles were then as they are now. It was more like a strange color on one's otherwise white shirt.

I eventually tired and retired. Yet the populace had become dependent on my ability to cut Yammerings, and still they called upon my services! I said to them, "Cut your Yammering yourself!" This exclamation was so threatening that it is used, in a derived form, even to this day.

So cut your Yammering. I'm going to go rest my eyes.

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