Sip the tea, biting gently… It’s afraid of you. Do not forget that dragons invented you, to fight with platypuses in identical suits of armor. The masquerade balls were quite amusing, as no one knew the jester from the king or the princess from the pig. The dancing was irreverent and happy, and twinkling feet and eyes were ever-present, though effervescent in appearance. Court ladies oft turned into the moon in July.

The bubbling voices of unknown faces in masks made sweet music of the village lamps and toadstools. Grapes tangoed sweetly and without remorse. If one looked to the sky, the only thing to be seen was a marmalade sandwich filled with octopus custard and duck noise maladies.

But the most amazing instance of all the occurrences was when the sheep danced on hind legs with a peanut butter cake, and the peasant women laughed to see dogs drifting through blue eyes and blinking rabbit cheese. Without the nuns to keep the harmonious disorder, a cacophony of angry toast arose.

What? Don’t you get it?