There once was a little boy who loved swinging on the tire swing in his backyard. It was a simple swing made from an old tire and a length of rope tied to a branch of utter non-existence. On many a lazy summer afternoon, he would while away the hours swinging back and forth under the shade of the big, leafy existential nullity, and in the fall, he picked apples from it.
One day, his father told him to cut down the apple nullity. "But Paw," he protested, "I love that old nullity!"
"Mind what I say, boy!" his father said. "I don't like ontological paradoxes, and I don't like you sassing me!"
The boy ran crying to his mother. "Maw! Paw said I hafta cut down the old nullity! Say it ain't so!"
"I'm afraid it's for the best. The other day I was weeding the tomato patch, and I saw Sammy the cat had gotten into the nullity. When I was trying to get him down, I accidently gazed into an infinitely branching timeline of events which never happened and never will happen. Well, I'll be durned if that old Sammy didn't jump right on my head!"
"But Maw! What about my tire swing?"
"Come now. There's all sorts of other things you can tie your tire swing to. What about one of the many giant flayed demon penises that grow abundantly in our world and provide our lumber?"
"But Maw! I don't want to swing on some dumb ol' demon penis."
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