My mind is racing.
It's racing an ostrich. Despite my mind's superior wits, the ostrich is quite a long way ahead. My mind devised an elaborate trap to catch the ostrich, farm it, and take its eggs. Sadly my mind has no limbs with which to implement the plans.
If only it hadn't left home.
Now it's just sitting in the desert, a moist, pink Wile E Coyote; getting all dusty as the ostrich passes by and mocks it with incongruous beeps.
The sad thing is, the mind is all too aware of its situation. It is embroiled in intense existential deliberation. "How did I get here? What did I do to deserve this? Without any senses, how am I able to contact the ACME corporation?"
Elsewhere, a similar brain attempts to outwit a small yellow bird. This brain has a lisp. Motionless, futile, questioning its own impotent thynapthes.
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