If it hasn't happened yet, *what* have they been raping all these years?

"Hehehehehehehe" rose the voice from the marshy bog.

He burned it with fire, and then watched. Two blue butterflies settled on the marble.

He slowly approached, sneaking, thinking that by sneaking, he may be able to access the butterfly's inner fear.

"What kind of person catches a blue butterfly, and then grinds it?" said the butterfly.

He gently took off the blue butterfly's headset and put the remainder near the alchemy lab.

The wings began to try and taunt him. "Don't you think we, too, deserve life?" they said. "Don't you think that, perhaps, even us may have fallen in love with a girl, from Bulgaria?"

He carefully joined the wings with the blue mountain flower, and suddenly lost health. Ah, he mused. This is the potion of Don't Restore Health!

"Don't let Bulgarians win!" said the voice.

He took a long puff. "None of this has anything to do with me," he said.

"It's hot," said the voice in the flames. "We're hot!"

He switched them off, and then focused on what was more important to him. *Poking, coaxing and shaving* Ronald D. Moore to make either a new Star Trek, or a new episode of Galactica.

"Once you do that," he typed, "you will be golden."