The Book Of Cyril
December 3, 2019 at 9:25 am
(This post was last modified: December 3, 2019 at 9:31 am by BrianSoddingBoru4.)
It occurs to me that we need a Book - most religions have got a Book. Ours need not be perfect (a perfect Book would violate the very essence of Wombatism), but it makes sense that we have at the very least a set of guidelines for when the rejecters of Wombatism question our deeply held sincere beliefs. I'll start off, but all other Cyrilists should feel free to add and amend as they see fit.
The Creation, Chapter One
1 In the beginning was the Pouch, and the Pouch was eternal. After countless ages, the Pouch did bring forth Cyril, and he was fully formed.
2 And Cyril did look about him and he did see that all was void and there was no place to dig.
3 'This won't answer,' saith Cyril. And he did emit from out his hindmost parts the Great Gas, which men call hydrogen.
4 And Cyril did return him to the Pouch and he did sleep for an age and an age, while the hydrogen did be getting on with things.
5 And when Cyril did emerge from the Pouch a second time, he saw that there were worlds and stars and grasses that were good to eat and lovely sandy bits in which to dig.
6 And Cyril saw that it was good.
Boru
The Creation, Chapter One
1 In the beginning was the Pouch, and the Pouch was eternal. After countless ages, the Pouch did bring forth Cyril, and he was fully formed.
2 And Cyril did look about him and he did see that all was void and there was no place to dig.
3 'This won't answer,' saith Cyril. And he did emit from out his hindmost parts the Great Gas, which men call hydrogen.
4 And Cyril did return him to the Pouch and he did sleep for an age and an age, while the hydrogen did be getting on with things.
5 And when Cyril did emerge from the Pouch a second time, he saw that there were worlds and stars and grasses that were good to eat and lovely sandy bits in which to dig.
6 And Cyril saw that it was good.
Boru
‘But it does me no injury for my neighbour to say there are twenty gods or no gods. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.’ - Thomas Jefferson
