The Curious Dreamlife of Marshmallow Addie - Volume 21

Marshmallow Addie focussed on the shapes in between objects. Sigma residual areas equals total area. Tautological infinity analysis. Real life was occasionally fairly lucid, as far as hallucinations went. Odd. He probably was in reality, just another bum under a bridge who hadn't realized that the green tea he had been smoking all these years had been laced with cocoa all along.

Shame how the shapes themselves changed when the gaps in between them came into focus. Just as words changed when he listened to the millisecond silences between each one. Within each one.

Marshmallow the Hookah was now confused. Especially when Yellowbottom feebly coughed out a smoke ring called Addie.

Crimorcles: I say, a most astonishing thing happened!

Pers: You don't say!

Crimorcles: Yes! Just the other day, this chap hit a triple hundred in just one day. He absolutely murdered the bowling.

Pers: Good heavens! Was it a rubbish attack? A flatbed bowler's nightmare?

Crimorcles: Nothing of that sort. It was just bloody brilliant batting. Marvelous stuff to watch, I tell you. Unless you were part of the fielding team, of course, though I must confess, I thought I noticed the chap at cover applaud a couple of boundaries after a point. And one of them even before it passed him!

Pers: Ah yes, a well timed cover drive does have a hypnotic effect at times. It reminds me of a few summers ago when I was younger and happened to play in the junior leagues a bit. I used to do a spot of 'keeping on and off... more off than on if you catch my drift.

Crimorcles: Rot! 'keeping? You couldn't catch a ball with a sack... let alone a pair of unwieldy gloves.

Pers: Nevertheless, I happened to be keeping one afternoon when this chap none of us knew from Adam strolled out with just one pad on and went on to hit a hundred odd in just under half an hour. And not one ball was hit in the air. It was quite remarkable. He scored off every single ball except one towards the end. He played and missed and I was so used to seeing the ball hit past cover or point every time he was at the crease, that I was standing behind the wickets with my hands on my hips. Needless to say, the ball went straight through my legs for four byes. Rather embarassing, that.

Crimorcles: Well, I couldn't have expected better. Right, well, let's go to the pub and shag the monkey.