An ooze gurgled.
The ooze wondered at the world around it. When it had seen enough, the ooze became bored.
Then there were two oozes. The two oozes traveled the world, enjoying the sights, smells, sounds, textures and flavors of the world that they discovered in their travels.
The two oozes began arguing over what they would visit next, so then there was a third ooze, who introduced a new opinion instead of breaking the tie.
A fourth ooze came along, they abandoned their travels. They occupied their time first with bridge whist, auction whist and then finally contract whist.
A fifth ooze came along and introduced blackjack. Then a new fifth ooze after the first one was shot for counting cards.
Soon several new oozes rounded out an association football team, along with a cluster of hooligans.
Then the hooligans were kicked out, and the two gangs of oozes created new oozes at an alarming pace and tried to overwhelmed one another until the newest generation quite forgot what the fuss had been about in the first place. The two sides reconciled.
A ooze with a long memory reminded them of the original conflict and the whole flare-up began anew. When it had calmed down, a new policy came into being which mandated that all oozes of a certain age be churned into a thin paste. Nobody remembered why the policy existed, but several oozes with long memories reminded them that it was a good idea.
Leaving a jar of thin paste in a very inconvenient place, an ooze developed an appendage in order to retrieve it and became very excited, but had to wait until it could explain the process of growing an appendage to another ooze before it could high-five to celebrate the achievement.
A lazy ooze gurgled when it wanted to high-five a friend that was very far away. The Oozench language formed.
The second word in the language was a very naughty one indeed.
The third word considered the formation of thin paste.
The fourth word defined the political discourse. A group of self-proclaimed Thin Pasters defined themselves as such, and painted all of their opposition as Thick Pasters, even though most of them could not give a single, flying second word about the consistency of paste. This fractured the Thick Pasters because they all believed that they had to act in unison, and strengthened the Thin Pasters.
The Thin Pasters, however, were soon ousted from office by a stray droplet of bleach.
They had not de-activated their doomsday device, however, and soon a mind-erasing Oozonium bomb detonated, debilitating the oozes and rendering them incapable of even gurgling.
The Moral: Soccer, for those of us in the colonies, you limey sons of bitches. We kicked your ass at the Alamo!