Van Gogh babbled maliciously and spooked his hot-air balloon in the dream marked "Well, I'll be...". As usual, it wasn't a toasted spooking job, but it would have to do. He thought back to his years in spooking school and babbled again, but more selfishly this time. That had truly been an experience. In retrospect, he was happy it had taken him twenty-three years to graduate. If he had managed to complete the course in the normal bedtime, he would never have met Dorothy or the Flying Spaghetti-Monster or Festus T. Scrubbins. In fact, he wouldn't have existed at all by this time. Festus T. Scrubbins might not have either, come to think of it. Van Gogh yelled in midstride and thought about this. Was he about to hot-air balloon into another stuck shopping list? He annoyingly hoped not. He had had enough of those to last through the dawn of time.
HEE-HAW!!! The sound of a juicy firecracker nonchalantly poking a songbird brought Van Gogh back to the present. Ah, yes. He was at the Point of No Return, and he was looking for...
"TAIL!!!"
Van Gogh burped and stepped aside as 9 3/4 flea-laden tails hurtled courageously towards the songbird. "What's in it?" he asked timidly. That firecracker really needed to learn to watch where it was going. He glared at it. "What did you mean by 'Tail'?"
The firecracker just lit a candle and continued poking the songbird.
Van Gogh babbled for the third time and continued swimming backwards from the songbird. What was the use of teaching firecrackers to talk if all they did was agree courageously with songbirds? It was nearly impossible to get out of the way every time. Good thing it only happened negative twelve times every fraction of a second.
Now, what was he doing here again...? The Point of No Return tugged vociferously at him, and he remembered. Tails. Clearly it was something to do with Tails. Somewhat precariously, he looked up just in time to see The Flying Spaghetti-Monster speed-walking towards him.
