I LOLLED ON A LILLIPAD

I lolled on a lillipad in perfect peace. I was naked and the feeling of the green wet lillipad against my back and butt, and the hot yellow sun beaming down upon my frontal nudity was an exquisite combination. Being shrunken down to a tiny size by my father, who had then had to admit his accidentally doing so to his wife, had been a blessing in disguise. I felt I had gained a whole new perspective on life, and though there was a lingering sense of paranoia in the back of my mind that a frog might leap onto me at any moment, that too would be a new experience.

DON'T LET ME GO

Don't let me go, because I might not stop falling and even if this creek bed looks only 100 metres down and it seems death is fortchcoming and inevita=ble, I might just fall through and past it all and into a void and then you'll never stop hearing me screaming, and then you'll be at the supermarket checkout and the lady will ask, "cash or card?" and you'll keep saying "What?" because you can't hear for my screams that haunt you.

DRAMBUIE LIPS THEY CALLED ME

Drambuie lips they called me, it was dripping off them all the time. This sweet liqueur I poured wantonly down my throat and all over my lips, dripping off like fine brown crystals, hitting the concrete and making it sweet and wooozy. Sometimes if I dripped enough the concrete would wrench itself from the ground and stumble over to the park bench with me. It's heavy, cracking arm around my shoulder, slurring into my ear it's pledges of friendship and willingness to crush anybody who spoke poorly of me.

BLACK AND WHITE GARFIELD CAME OUT OF THE PAGES

Black and white Garfield came out of the pages of the comic book and onto my coffee table. At first he was the tiny size of the comic strip square, but over a matter of minutes, while flickering and groaning horrifically, he blew up to the size of a large cat. He continued to make unearthly noises, while thought bubbles appeared above his head filled with crude, shaky lettering. "Where am I? What happening? Wheregyoiunng? Aarggyundsu?" His eyes looked at me pleadingly. I was backed against the wall in horror and had no idea what to do. My childhgood dreams had come horrifically true.

I SLIPPED INTO A STATE OF DELIRIOUS INFANTILISM

I slipped into a state of delirious infantilism at the supermarket checkout, rolling on the floor and making goo goo gaga soiunds. My state was so believeable that despite my adult frame and clothing the other patrons and staff truly believed I was an abandoned child. Nobody quite knew what to do with themselves besides frown and say "so sad, so sad". Eventually the police took me away and when I came to I was living in a foster home in Glenrowan and enrolled in Grade 6. That had been quite a fugue state. Things seemed to be going quite well in this new life, I had a best friend name Barry and I seeemd to be quite good at table tennis. I'd need to have a Big M and think about whether I carried on or tried to return to the ruins of my old life in Coburg.

THE FRENCH WAITER ASKED IF I WOULD LIKE A CHICKEN GOUJON

The french waiter asked if I would like a chicken goujon. I was struck dumb by the weighty beauty of the word. I glazed over in rapture, softly repeating the word goujon over and over. "Yes, Monsieur", the waiter said, getting a little testy. "Would you like one?" I could faintly recognize that someone was speaking to me in my human body life, but at this point I was far away in a deep crreamy place in which the word goujon surrounded me and tickled all my five senses seductively, even seeming to massage a hitherto unknown sixth sense with it's majestic power. Without doubt they would soon have my body wrapped in a straitjacket and hauled off to the funny farm. I hoped they would serve some kind of Goujon there on fridays.

IN CIRCUMSTANCES OF EXTREME GUNGE

In circumstances of extreme gunge, one must go beyond the tools of washing liquid and sponge. Employment of fire, porcupines, shouting drill sargeants, alluring cartoon vamps (to lure the gunge away from it's current surface) are necessary. Psychological warfare in the battle against gunge is questionable, some claim success but truly scientific studies have never been carried out. In extreme cases it is recommended that one burn one's house down, relocate the ashes into a deep mine shaft, dig up the soil underneath for at least 17 feet and replace it with soil surreptitiously relocated from an Amish community, and have an emmisary from each religion wander around the edges of the property, dripping holy water or sage smoke or whatever substance is their go-to. One must take care to have these different religious emissaries rotating the property at a slightly different orbit so as not to have them crash into each other as they walk and mumble and burn sage.