Why I'm Not a Scientist II

I've done some major remodeling here, but I think it lacks good transitions between paragraphs and isn't very consistent. OR maybe I'm trying something new. Let me know which one you think. If you liked the first edition, let me know so I can know which to enter to the contest by January 31!


The tiger shark is a glutton among fish. They feast upon sea turtles, poisonous jellyfish, dolphins, whales, pigs, cows, and men overboard. Far from the ocean’s gourmet diner, dissected tiger sharks have been recorded to contain a plethora of flotsam and jetsam, including license plates, oil cans, and tires. A ferocious hunger is evident before they are even born. The shark hatches out of its egg while still inside its mother. The first shark guppy hatched, being far from a connoisseur of mommy’s milk and instead born at the ovoviviparous caviar assembly line, quickly devours all of its unborn brothers and sisters. This disposition carries with them as they mature, acquiring taste after taste of the endlessly bizarre. With an insatiable and cruel craving, the tiger shark prowls the black shallows of the tropics, their noses keen on the scent of blood and stomachs eager for carnage; they claim an appetite of almost human proportions.
There are humans among us with a desire to consume, not sea turtles or oil cans, but knowledge. These predators are yet hungry and not satisfied in their thirst. These people have many names, but know them for what they really are: Scientists. These hunters are stalking predators, sneaking up on herds of unexpecting questions. They weed out the old and sickly, questions that have been around for ages, conquering past challengers with powerful paradox, but are now old and weakened by time’s buffeting answers. The merciless scientist, camouflaged by promised results and romantic ideals and global warming, sneak up on these questions until they are a breath away and—pounce!—it is dispatched in a quick blow of logic. Another mystery has gone the way of all the earth.
However, hopeful environmentalists, let us not take science away from our human society. Despite their savage instincts, and uncomely appearance, scientists are part of a healthy ecosystem. Were it not for the Scientist, questions would run rampant about the earth, their numbers would explode, and we would be living in a terrible society where man denies circumferential earth and the sun is again a tiny blip in the sky that circulates about us.
No, we needn’t fear the hungry scientist, but love them for the answer-spewing, top-of-the-food-chain, dominant oafs that they are. Be patient with them, because they right now they are reading funny maps with weird instruments and shouting long words across the room inside our heads.
It’s nothing to be ashamed of. All humans are subject to those ranting know-it-alls upstairs. This is because we were all born ovoviviparously into a world subject to that hideous power, that looming strength overhead, the awesome How. He dominates this world. He greats as a friend, one we love and fear. His shadow’s icy breath chills our necks and makes our palms sweat. We always whip around, hoping to catch a glimpse but we are too slow and he’s already hiding somewhere else: under our feet or behind our ears, like a game we can’t win. And we don’t necessarily want to. But however this symbiotic friendship pesters and pleases us, it is nothing to what we feel in our hungry stomachs.
Never mind How’s pleasing whisper, his provocative flavors and painfully pleasurable paradoxes, he can never conquer a terrible squirming inside us—never outdo the throbbing in our bellies. He’s powerless when compared to a tiny, fleeting Why. Scientists in our brains, with harpoons laced with poison, have hunted this beast inside our bowels, but they have yet to outwit it. It’s elusive taunting grates on the nerves and caresses the emotions. Like a tiger shark guppy worming through our intestinal thoughts, hopes, and dreams, it quickly devours all unborn ideas, growing fatter and stronger, and soon it will eat us, too. It’ll consume us from the inside out, until there is no prevail, until you are left destitute. Your brainy scientists will be stumped. They’ll pull their hair, remove their glasses, and the rub their temples. We’ll be on our own and powerless.
Then Why will swallow us whole as easily as a license plate. The whole world will be a black mystery. It’ll be dark and murky. We will wandering blind for a solution with outstretched palms. Sometimes we’ll bump into How, his bulky silhouette barely outlined as black on black. Sometimes he will give us friendly directions this way or that, but really he’ll be as lost as we are and evanesce as quickly as he comes. Alone again, we will wander, desperate, cold. Until we trip on someone. Me.
I am Writer. I am Voyager, Discoverer, Explorer. I am learning, and hope that you can, too. My goal is to map out Why, to seek out the secret hideouts and tunnels behind the bookshelves. I will share my discoveries, allow you all to read my travel log as I seek out my buried treasure maps, unearthed, carefully used and well-treated by early craftsmen, then reburied for the discovery of later artists to use with equally great care, to also find this deep treasure of writing, the answers to the squirming tiger shark Why inside us all.