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."

"Fine!? FINE!? Ever seen a slug's genitalia!?" cried out the tux.

"Um... no. Errr... Ever thought about finding a new job?"

"There's no market for respectable clothes nowadays, you know. In what fantasy are you living?"

"'Lord of the Rings'. Hi, I'm Gandalf."

"Shouldn't you wear a ridiculous hat or something? And, like, I don't know, not be a frog? Not that I discriminate against frogs..."

"My wife cursed me."

"You have a wife?"

"No. I'm just a pathological liar."

"Does that mean that you lied about being Gandalf?"

"Maybe. Don’t know Hey, what do you see in the clouds?"

Dark shapes swirled in the sky above and the sun's light prickled the tuxedo's metaphorical eyes. It felt intoxicated. It could have been the frog's saliva, sometimes they were toxins in there, it had heard.

"Trouble, awful, devil, evil", cooed the suit happily.

"Um... nice. Creative, albeit creepy. That's the best kind of creepy. It points out the most majestic in the great fluctuations in the... Lobachevski’s field. It warps time in the exact proportions of an A4 format sheet of paper."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

The tux suddenly stood up and grinned in an unsettling way (how a tuxedo was able to do so became one of those eternal mysteries that where destined to be answered after a couple of millennia, when someone got hit by a flying pair of sentient pears, thus being inspired to re-draw the laws of physics with a ruler, stolen from a passing schoolboy, and a piece of blue gum). Then it ate the frog. It tasted of coconuts with an ever so slight tinge of burned pineapples and aroma reminiscent of the shrieks of a bag full of hopelessly drugged badgers (it was a truth universally acknowledged that all badgers were junkies and all squirrels were the most ruthless of murderers... except when there was insane Harvard mathematics professors around; then they rаn for their dear sweet life, letting the pigeons (pigeons were dumb) take all the coated with cyanide nuts).

Beyond the purple sun, beyond galaxies in the shape of bananas, and beyond the dark abyss which engulfed it all the embodiment of the Universe decided that it was getting boring, left the popcorn, and went to watch other universes being born. It was a sigh of bad taste, really, but said universe was a quite perverted one.

And things once again make sense.

Kind of.

Not really.

Well, at least there weren’t any slugs walking around, breaking the laws of thermodynamics.