Chapter 21

She wakes for what she wagered was a moment.

She has not woken.

Spoken.

Soon she sees.

What does she see?

I declaim.  A Commonwelt; a reign of black hussars swarming over the plain face of a damsel in this dress; many women have difficulties expressing their selves and/or being clear in and about what they really want and really hate; a bomb; two rabbits thrusting by friction to produce a swarm of babbitts; quahogs unlimited; a bicorn; a picture, in which squirming hordes surround a great spinning blue orb dripping with metaphysical gibbets of gibbering giblets; they swarm onto it and onto each other, spelling out letters of the old Copulian alphabet as they go and on the run; from the orifice of one of the more distressed inhabitants of this sphere emerges or regresses (the directionality has been impaired) the limb of a remarkably self-actualized cohort, by name of Welsh; surrounding this entire filigreed structure is a pool which reflects in its red audacity the still and awesome majesty of its crater.

What else?

Well, to begin with, there’s the window view.  You know, out the old back window which I’d never really noticed before.  Not before you’d pointed it out to me.  Out that window, which was plastered with perfect gray immaterial antimatter, there filtered a light scent of Woman.  And protruding in an ocular sense from the field of invisibility, revealing itself in its displayed openness, was a large branch fallen off a river.  It might have been the mighty Mississippi.  Or the lake Titicaca.  Or the god Ixtacapopopepetl.  Or Quetzcatcaoutchoucquatl Qualifier.  Good driving, you qualified to race.  But I digress.  What I heard from this angle was a vibration only remotely comparable to the filigrees of Old.  Normally we conceive of drivel as vibrational.  Normally, you see, we tend to substitute a representation for the direct ballot, and we picture  the ondulation rather than brown-bagging it.  But a vacuum bottle well-stocked with Teocopi, i.e. ambrosia of aphrodisiac, might Lindt and Pasteur its way into an adequacy.  As for smell … ah, where can I begin?  But I might as well end right here.  We proceed to touch.  Then we kiss.  Then — excuse me.  We proceed to the sensation of tactile resistance.  In this case it was not observed to exceed the preestablished ration of .004908 microbes, or 66 grahams.  A solution of 4 parts penallobin to  5 parts Makrathon was then applied using the Plottsworth method.  Results were observed.  And boy, did my eyes pop out!  You could have heard an antique Packard horn drop to the floor as we marked up our charts, scribbling furiously and facilely, zipping through the reams of eagle pads with practiced grace.  This was a doozer; and we knew that we were living a moment destined to enter the annules of Doozerdom in the Hoosier Dome, fond location of the Hall of Fame.  And the rest is history — but we reprint it here for the sake of proverbial accuracy, pinpointing the exact, precise general area where the Adam did the splits.

A Report on Transesophagous Macroepageous Generation

of Phi-positive Venerative Ions

by P. Humphreeze Ledbedwedder, G. of a large T.T. and Q. Th. of C.