Above vast pastures of blue grass the purple sun shone with the overwhelming brightness of a million suns of a more appropriate for a star colour.
The slug blinked a couple of times, its vision blurry and its mind foggy. Many half-formed questions flooded its mind as the slug’s consciousness finally re-joined its slimy body (understandably, with little enthusiasm). Then it turned into a white rabbit and hopped away without any care in the world. The ex-mollusc would later be eaten by the Big Bad Wolf who had grown tired of waiting for annoying naive little girls dressed in red to show up in the woods (it was a surprisingly common wolf fetish).
The slug's damp tuxedo lied there, lonely and frightened. One had to ask oneself how a suit could possibly feel either lonely or frightened. Such meaningless questions were below the majestic frog which appeared from the thick shrubbery from underneath the table and licked it with affection.
"There, there, little flat one, everything will be fine ...