Soar Cretin Crash Course

Welsh Interludes

"I'm here to introduce you to your whiskers, sir," He said with a wet grin dripping from his maw. His eyes were grey, no pupils, just grey orbs in his sockets. He had no fingers, and his nose was made of gingerbread. I looked down at his feet. They were feet. Average sized. Probably an 11.5 in most shoes. If he were to buy hiking boots, I'd assume he'd buy at least a size 12, you know, just to make sure there was extra room for his layers of socks. I looked back up into his eyes. I grabbed his nose, and it crumbled in my grasp.

"Thank you," he said, "Sordid hemp ro-" He didn't complete his sentence because the rest of his body turned to gingerbread as well. I sat there for a moment contemplating whether it would be appropriate to start munching on him. I wasn't sure if that would be disrespectful or taboo. I didn't care. I was hungry. I started to nibble on his hand stumps. I suddenly realized that this wasn't gingerbread at all. It was molasses cookie. No matter; most people can't distinguish the difference anyway.

I stopped eating, looked myself in the eyes, looked deep into my soul, and asked myself, "Does it really matter?"

I decided it didn't, stood up, and exited the room. The door was made of rubber. When I looked at what was on the other side of the door, I gasped at the sight. In a completely empty room, white walls, white ceiling and floor, and an identical rubber door opposite the wall from which I had entered, there sat a beast in the middle. It was a very large toad. About the size of a similarly sized frog. Of a similar shape too. The bell started to ring, and the toad belched.

"Please excuse yourself," I requested.

"Delp." retorted the toad. I shrugged and walked around the toad to the next door. I opened it, and there was nothing.

And nobody spoke.