TERPSICHOREAN DELIGHTS OF THE MOST LANGUID KIND

Terpsichorean delights of the most languid kind swished all around us, the vibrations in the air prodding our bodies gently in a sensual rocking motion. Through the smoke I could see the occasional arm, shoulder, elbow, buttock or ankle gyrating listlessly. Oh what a feeling it was. I supped heartily from my flask and continued letting the bass voiced dead man tell me what to do and how to do it, and how if there was something I needed, he would be my handy man.

GIGGLING AND STUMBLING

Giggling and stumbling, coloured lights flashing all around her periphery, she decided it would be best if she climbed a tree right now. She wrapped her arms around a branch and hoisted herself up against it's trunk, The smell was so rich and fresh and alive. She just stood there for what seemed like hours, her breasts pressed against the solid mass of wood, her hair brushing against the leaves, her nose inflamed with sensation. We looked up at her from the ground, a little worried she might fall, but mostly pleased she was having such a glorious, sensuous time. The water in the creek burbled away.

ANOTHER DAY LOST

Another day lost. Another day of laying on the porch in the sun, it's rays penetrating deep into me and warming my heart and my lungs and my small intestine and my colon until until they glow with a nice yellow red halo. Another day of reading wonderful words that tantalize my mind. Another day of grapes being dangled into my mouth by invisible ghost ladies who smell phantasmicly fantastic. Run along, day, be free, be lost , be happy.

MY MOUTH WAS FULL OF BUTTER

My mouth was full of butter. It felt so good that I kept on funnelling butter into my mouth until it filled me up and all my organs got pushed out through my pores and now I am just one big old walkin', talkin', jigglin', singing', dancin', lovin', tub o' butter. If you squeeze me some butter comes out my pores like a Ryvita biscuit too. Everybody loves the big ol' wobbly butter man. Come on over and get a buttery kiss, now.

BUTTOCKS AS BIG AS MOUNTAINS

Buttocks as big as mountains. Perfectly formed, splendid things. The villagers made a pilgrimage there every year before the harvest, climbing to the top of the buttocks and kneading them all together. Nobody knew if they were connected to a giant person or something else underneath the ground, and nobody dared go on an underground excavation mission. Some things you just didn't mess with. But they were alive, that was for certain. They reacted to touch and to heat and to cold, breaking out into great basketball sized goosey pimples when the sun went down and the winter chill set in.

A LITTLE BIT OF RAIN

A little bit of rain, at just the right time, is just enough to send all those good feelings rushing to my head. It blows up like a purple balloon and I go floating off into the sky. I see the city lights below, I see whales eating sharks, I see giant oil tankers spearing the whales, I see alien space ships flying down and zapping the oil tankers, then I decide to get in on the action and I float down and grab the space ship and shake it all around like it's a can of sardines. I can hear the aliens bouncing around all over the walls and feel a little bit of rain on my face. I smile with a horrible grimace.

I SAT DOWN AT THE PIANO AND ATTEMPTED TO PLAY

I sat down at the piano and attempted to play, but being completely untrained, unpractised and unco-ordinated, the sounds coming out were not especially harmonious. The piano whispered to me, "gimme a little drink, and I'll play myself". Then it winked with it's keys. So I opened up the lid, got a bottle of whisky from the cabinet and poured a good splash over the piano wires and hammers. "Oh yes, that's the stuff", said the piano, seeming to leer somehow via it's keys. "I haven't had a stiff drink in so long". It started to play some rollicking barrel-house piano, tipping back and forth in a rather dangerous manner as it did so. I was a little scared I may be crushed, but the music (and the booze, which I also had a swallow of) was so intoxicating I couldn't help but abandon my self to dance and flicking my hair around in the manner of Cab Calloway. After ten minutes or so the piano slowed down and came to a stop. "Now, Boy," said the piano, "make me a martini and I'll play some smooth cocktail jazz for your dinner date tonight."