Steve was panting as he ran around the corner, the pack of wild lemmings hot on his tail.
Of course, Steve was an evolved monkey so he didn't have a tail, and the lemmings' body temperature was no higher than normal, and so they were not hot. They were simply following him and doing a very efficient job of it.
Suddenly Steve turned into a socket wrench and dropped to the ground. "This will fool them, " he thought.
Much to his dismay, it did not, and the lemmings tied six hundred pounds of napalm to his body. The lemmings got to a safe distance before detonating Steve. Contrary to popular belief, lemmings are not suicidal. They are simply avid, although poorly skilled, cliff divers.
The lemmings were all identical, except for the ones that weren't. Some of them had short tails, and so did the rest.
One of the lemmings spoke up, "Hey guys! Let's all go cliff diving!" And so they all proceeded to jump off a cliff.
Rodney, one of the lemmings who was different, managed to swim back to shore. Since all his friends were dead, he assumed he had done something wrong. So he tried it again. And swam back to shore again. Somehow, Rodney had inadvertently learned to swim.
He went back to the lemming village, sad and dejected, and lightly salted. When the other lemmings saw that he was sad and alone, they asked, "What's the name of that broad who hosts the Today Show?"
Rodney detested sexism, and the use of the word "broad," and so he shot them all. He was also strictly against violence, so he shot himself. Or at least he tried to, but the gun was empty.
And so, Rodney, the lucky lemming who learned to swim, packed his trunk and left town, and set off to make his fortune in Pittsburgh, working in the smog factories.
Pittsburgh was reknowned for its smog factories, and was one of the biggest suppliers of such polluted cities as Los Angeles, Hamilton and Pitt Meadows. He knocked on the door of the large, imposing building, which looked very much like the earth was smoking a cigar. A large, fat, bald, skinny man opened the door and looked out. Seeing no one, he slammed the door and went back to his office.
Mustering his courage, Rodney knocked again. This time, however, the result was different. The door opened the fat, bald, skinny man, spilling the man's intestines all over the floor of the factory. This made the janitor very unhappy, because it was the floor's day off, and the janitor was filling in for it.
Rodney tiptoed across the bloody janitor, peeking around corners so as not to startle any indigenous lemmings, as Pittsburgh was known in the lemming world as a bad neighbourhood.
Rodney found nothing in the factory, apart from the day's production of smog, and Mrs. Schmidt. He immediately threw her in a bucket of smog by-products for being an anti-semitist. Rodney hated anti-semitists even more than he hated prejudiced people.
Rodney was a lemming. A big fat lemming. A rotund little rodent with swimming goggles and a toothpick.
No he wasn't. He was actually quite tall and fit for a lemming, which was why he had been employed as a bouncer at the local dance 'n' drown club. Until they all died.
Much to Rodney's surprise, his legs all fell off. So did his head. This was rather embarrassing, as there was nothing sharp in the vicinity to blame it on. So Rodney accepted his little physical challenge and went on about his life, with prosthetic limbs fashioned out of Jiffy markers, and a false head make from wadded up kleenex.
Suddenly, a rather irate floor-shaped janitor killed him stone dead with a smoking, twisted socket wrench. Ironically, 2000 miles away, the same thing happened to a small patch of lichen with a hacking cough named plastic.