You appendix is the victim of circumstance brought on by the decidedly non-whimsical process of adaptability from something with the intention to continue life, a process that from any outside intelligence's point of view, truly if it had view or conscious thought, would believe pointless and directionless, yet since it is all we know we cannot fight the urge to romanticize it's place in existence with wild stories of our more truthfully humble beginnings.
Or, or it has upset its deity, Lord Apendices. Incidentally, get well soon!
Hiii
Hooo.
Now if you'll excuse me, my intelligently designed appendix is about to explode and kill me.
Or, or it has upset its deity, Lord Apendices. Incidentally, get well soon!