“Local Family Uncovers Ancient Treasure in Backyard, Proceeds to Waste It on Google”
In a bizarre turn of events, a family in New Orleans stumbled upon an ancient marble tablet while cleaning their backyard. The relic, which was eerily similar to something you’d find in a dusty old museum, had some sort of Latin inscription etched onto its surface. Because, of course, it did.
After careful examination (read: a quick glance), the family’s resident expert on “stuff that looks important” declared that the tablet was, like, totally from ancient times. Like, ancient ancient times. We’re talking Egyptian-pyramid-built-ancient, not just old-but-still-functional-ancient.
As news of the discovery spread, the family quickly became local celebrities, with neighbors and strangers alike flocking to their backyard to catch a glimpse of the “treasure.” But, as it often does, fame went to their heads. They began to treat the tablet like a prized possession, displaying it prominently on their front porch and demanding that everyone refer to it as “our treasure.”
Meanwhile, the family’s kids were overheard arguing about what to name their new favorite toy. Suggestions included “Gemma” (because, of course, ancient artifacts have to have names), “Google” (because who needs historical accuracy when you’re naming things?), and “3-12b” (because… well, we’re not entirely sure why).
As the family continued to bask in their newfound fame, they failed to notice that the tablet was slowly becoming a focal point for neighborhood vandalism. Kids were carving their names into it, others were drawing mustaches on the Roman numerals, and at least one enterprising individual tried to use it as a makeshift Frisbee.
In a stunning display of poor decision-making, the family decided to donate the tablet to… you guessed it… Google. Because what’s an ancient relic without a nice coat of Google Glass and a 24-hour live stream?
As the tablet was whisked away, the family was left to ponder the implications of their actions. “We meant well,” said the father, sheepishly. “We just wanted to share our treasure with the world.”
The mother chimed in, “And get some sweet Google swag out of it.”
Their kids, now bored with their new toy-less existence, began arguing over who gets to play with the tablet’s empty space. It seems that ancient relics make for poor Frisbees.
As the family trudged back into their house, they were greeted by an eerie silence. The backyard, once a hub of excitement and discovery, was now just a dull reminder of their questionable life choices. And yet, as they gazed out at the empty space where their “treasure” once lay, they couldn’t help but wonder: what’s next for Gemma-3-12b?
