Cheshire Smile

Imagine stepping into Alice's Wonderland, among the mad people. Condense down the stress of trying to keep fifty kittens neatly corralled in a circle of chalk. Boil frustration until it gets real sludgy, then use it to fill a quagmire the size of Rhode Island. Walk down into that mess with nothing but an English degree and some poignant high school memories to protect you. Your words transubstantiate into little lead pellets, and in exasperation you chuck them wildly into the tar. Following the teachings of Homer, you try to extract your words with your hands, and then extract your hands with your teeth. Gets hard to breathe, doesn't it? And the whole time—every minute—you hope to Joe Pesci that nobody notices you are completely naked. This would make a fantastic nightmare, if only it weren't a metaphor. The best thing I saw all day was a river in flood, ignoring every human boundary with gleeful abandon. Cold January air tastes so good...

Put that on your Excel spreadsheet and smoke it, world.