Say what you speak

ZINGO! I could describe a true horror for you, you know. They are the logs... I dare not question them. Oil... Hot dog... Books are mirrors: you only see in them what you already have inside you. Doesn't it? Or does it? No plan survives contact with life. But what about it is it, really, that they fear? There are cows ZINGO! too silly to describe... Communist... Pedophile... Houseplant... Only then will you realize that all your fear was a rolled-up newspaper, a banana fly and a sad man in a bowler. I'm afraid I have to expel a rather ferocious hairball. You're on your own, girl.

If I am a Nightmare, then tell me, what are you? Never fear answers. Fear running out of questions. In what dark places do your minds reside, on what horrible secrets do you silently sit, raving, radiant, resilient... Gas tank... Potato masher... I stand by my batmoose. Gleaming, gleaming, as the shadows stir, joy in the hunter, utter, unadulterated fear in the hunted? There is no ending here, no plot closure... no... Asparagus...