"o no! de jungle's on fire! de jungle's on fire!"

a short story
by kali caspar asitwere delano

onceatime there were a prehensile rat and it swang through the trees left and roundabout the jungle. and as it swung through the creepmoss branches it came upon and through a verily billowous pffcloud of smoke scented of treefruit. so she scramblislid to the pulsing caves in the roots of the trees and she said to herself, "maybe i wait here a bit."

so the phoenixtree puffed on and spun in raindropripples and waited to dance with the passersby and swing about in circles all gravitating horizontals. of course, it couldn't go anywhere, all bondaged to the silver winevine. but it was fond of imaginating.

they gathered around to watch this spectacle of the imaginating tree, all the denizens of the jungle:

the adambears and ouroborosnakes and beeatles and manopuses slapping grandmothers and the daviducks and the nude harlequin and picasso's zack and mary and the onions and the dutch and x's tentaclehead and hespeth and the paisleybird and grace and spike and bernadine and the skull and the owl and the elephantparade.

garuda scorned, the jewelbug sulked on the tobacco tree and made smalltalk with the french legionnaire, camel in disrepair, longing for the affections of his lady the prehensile rat.

but she remained all wombed in the roots while the tree read the bhagavad gita.