After apparently playing a sitar in my sleep I woke with a crick in my neck; June was dressed as a flamingo and went out kicking a pink football. I pretended to be a goal post and watched a number of large birds rise in the thermals above a faded skyline. I then went to town underneath a glider and crash-landed like a jet fighter in the supermarket car park. A group of people had congregated there and were looking at the spot where the Vikings had sailed up the river with the humane alternative to flaming dogs in their arms. I imagined a spot where fire meets water.
I unzipped myself out of my railway embankment hiding place using a hairy legged spider zip. June had already sprung up like a Spring bulb and was later found balancing an ornate four poster bed on a provocatively outstretched finger. I decided to put on curtains instead of clothes and drew myself shut. I said goodbye to a small flower which had wilted in the light of time, burrowed into the side of a hill and came home wearing jellyfish instead of shoes. I found June half way up the trunk of a large tree holding two children in her arms.
Choosing the right door for once (I chose the one with the skeleton of Mickey Mouse on it), I followed the shades of grey corridor and found June tied to the main stage of a Saturn Five rocket. I managed to cut her loose using a pen knife I borrowed from an ex-executioner of the Women’s Institute. I then took her papers to the entrance of the castle keep and rung a bell. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a group of severed heads playing football – I didn’t envy the referee. Just for the fun of it I grew to over a hundred feet tall and bounded back home.
Using my renowned x-ray vision I saw the backing board of the mirror but sadly not my face. I did know from my heightened intuition that I had an old fashioned hay bailer on my head, almost directly over a frontal lobe; I felt it was odd that the farmer couldn’t afford a new one and then scratched my back with the tip of a sword fish. June had gone out, looking quite dashing with a lobster claw replacing her left hand and later rung me from a constellation only visible from the Southern Hemisphere. I filled the bath with milk and then enticed a donkey into it.
June went to a different hospital today and came back with a sky blue hand – I pretended I could see an approaching thunder storm but in reality all the clouds were white. To past the time I had tunnelled into the middle of a loaf of white bread and was just making myself comfortable when someone knocked the door. Some time later, three thousand miles away, I had to inspect a meteorite which for some reason was wearing an eye patch – this was all the more extraordinary as both its eyes followed me round the room.
I accompanied June to hospital where she crawled inside a rugby ball and I carefully removed a group of still skipping lambs from my coat pockets. I put on my sheep in wolf’s clothing sun glasses and waited for it to rain. As we left the war memorial open house a man with so many legs we couldn’t count them all came in (June told me not to mention a caterpillar on a cabbage leaf so I predicted a teenage craze for wearing starfishes instead of hats). June and I caught a passing cuttlefish and had dinner at the bottom of an artificial ocean.
I swam out of bed very early, pulling ripe plums out of the purple mist, and boarded a tug boat which sat in the harbour like a child’s rubber duck in a gunfighter’s holster. I visited the old master in a subterranean cruise ship and pulled the laurel leaves off the head of Julius Caesar as he watched from inside the stone age control room. I parachuted down through a sky of children’s exercise books into a land where pencils were the size of sequoia logs and a group of Bronze Age sacrificial victims pulled themselves out of the candy coloured bog.