One day, like always, I was riding my bike down the road. There, near my home, was a dead black swallowtail butterfly in the road. These things fascinate me, and I love them. I stopped, kicked my leg down, bent down and picked up the corpse.
The thing’s abdomen was dessicated and shriveled. I kissed it. Held it in my hand, and rode home, one handed. Then I kept the thing in my hand, went into the kitchen, mixed sugar with water, in whatever proportions, and put it in a bowl, got a spoon, and went outside. Did I forget to tell you all, when I picked it up from the road, I breathed on it in my hands and it flexed its wings.
So I fed its little corpse the sugar water, warmed it with my breath, and the sonofabitch started trying to fly. Seriously, the thing got pissed at me, flapped away, and left. I smiled.