With a pain in my neck, I sit and type this. My words flowing to and fro, exactly like the dog's tail as she look up at me from the floor. I can see in her eye's another world. Crystaline images of chocolate toads singing a mighty song with the whip of their tounges. Dancing carrots move past the window, and inside, inside the rocking chair sits on the man. On the rooftops, purple squarrels with yellow velvet vests chatter with one another about the economics of man. A warm breeze with the fragrance of butterscotch blows, and stirs up leaves that had been lieing asleep. The dog blinks her eye and the image is gone as fast as it came. Nothing left, but a furry smile on her face. Up an out the door she struts, leaving a smell of butterscotch behind.

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