Chapter 6

I live in a cave. I have for many years. As I child my hobbies included rock throwing, tree climbing, animal chasing, and the occasional hunting and gathering. One time while collecting buckleberries I was accosted by an enraged cave sloth. Well, I guess I wouldn't say enraged, but he was clearly upset about something. He chased me for a while through the woods until we were both quite tired. As we approached a clearing, both panting and out of breath, I decided I had had enough. I slowed my pace to a saunter, and then stopped. The sloth did as well. He approached, put one beefy sloth claw on my shoulder, and spoke. “That was a valiant effort you just made to get away, but i'm still gonna have to eat you.” I lay down on the grass, resigned to being eaten, and made shapes of the clouds. A rabbit was chasing a whale. A hat dissolved into a dolphin mid jump. A hand beckoned, and I followed. Up I went, up into nothingness. As a chid I wondered what clouds felt like. I imagined climbing the tallest tree on a day when the clouds hung low, grabbing onto the edge of one, and pulling myself up to where it was sunny. I would lay there, cradled by the cloud around me, and daydream. I would make shapes of the clouds above me. A train emerging from the mouth of a lion. A caped turtle poised to strike. A mountainous forrest shrouded in mystery. I would float upwards, carried by the clouds, into the forrest. Surrounded by the forest's magic, I exclaimed. The exclamation woke me. As I lay, resigned to being eaten, a thought occurred to me. How curious that a sloth should be this far from its dwelling. The sloth and I became fast friends. We galavanted around the forrest, speaking of many things. Like duckets, dandelion wine, the absurd presentation of fine foods, the disproportionate number of first cousin marriages, the social habits of peregrine falcons, the gigantic surge in popularity as of late of the pocket sized cake, the oddity of the hairless cat, the meaning of living, the wonderment of life, the flavor of shapes, the audacity of key lime pie, and the presence of presents.

Chapter 5

I met a giant bird that told me of the world

And then knocked me unconscious

So alas, I still know not of the world

Chapter 4

The bears are angry
I have stolen their honey
They sharpen their claws

The bees are enraged
Their sweet treasure is missing
They side with the bears

I lick my fingers
They sting my face, claw my chest
Sweet, sticky, I bleed

Chapter 3

Some things are hard to understand. Others are hard to stand under. Occasionally some things are both.

Rain fell from the sky. Norman had a very small umbrella. Brent was even more confused.

Chapter 2

I sat at my table, thinking that I knew everything. Little did I know that I knew quite little. Had I known everything I would have known this. Glancing out the window I saw a strange sight, two identical men clearly meeting for the first time.

Chapter 1

Brent was confused. But this was normal. Its said that there is no such thing as normal. But there is, its relative. And for Brent this was normal. Norman was late. But this was Norman. It is said that there is no such thing as Norman. But there is, he's Brent's relative. For Norman this was unusual. He and Brent had never met.