Stalagmites and stalagtites are fantastic thingamajigs. Artwork by mother nature, all sleek and beautiful, molded very patiently bits by bits over several thousand years.

It must be very prestigious to have something that took that long to make. People in the past would definitely be proud having sets of them in their caves. They probably threw a great cavewarming parties when they moved in, flaunting their sets of stalagmites and stalagtites to their friends and families.

"Wow, can you believe this" said Brob, one of their friends.
"Yes, how ostentatious." said Twim, a neighbour, jealously.
"They even have a pillar here, how old do you reckon this one is?" inquired Brob.
"Probably fourteen, fifteen thousands. Couldn't be more than that." replied Twim bitterly.
"Wow, I have a spiralled one back at my cave, only a few thousand years old. Don't think I'll live too see the day they form a pilar though." said Bwob sadly. "Makes me blue just to think about it." he added.
"Well, at least your grand-grandchildren will," encourage Twim, "then maybe they'll throw a great cave party in your honor."
"Yeah, unless they got abducted by aliens" said Bwob.
"Oh, come on, you watched too many of them science fiction shows." pressed Twim, "We all know science ain't real."